


Wandering Inside This Night

by DarthAnimus



Series: This Is Who You Are [3]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Abuse of Immortality, M/M, Seriously Bunny dies a lot in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3849496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAnimus/pseuds/DarthAnimus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to Finding Pieces of a Life</p><p>Bunny had to shed many parts of his old life on the way to present. Some things he left willingly, others he was forced to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yesterday I Died

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bunny had to reinvent himself four times along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday I died, tomorrow's bleeding.  
> Fall into your sunlight.  
> The future's open wide, beyond believing.  
> To know why, hope dies.  
> Losing what was found, a world so hollow.  
> Suspended in a compromise.  
> The silence of this sound, is soon to follow.  
> Somehow, sundown.
> 
> And finding answers.  
> Is forgetting all of the questions we called home.  
> Passing the graves of the unknown.  
> ~ Trading Yesterday - Shattered  
> 

_Euca._

Violet and Euca had been born completely identical both physically and in temperament. Everyone knew that the short temper the both of the twins had was something that had been there from the start. It was one of the things that alienated them from the rest of their siblings in addition to the resentment of their special status as genetically engineered inheritors for their mother's title.

The differences came from the twins’ personalities. Euca preferred the quiet while Violet was made for light and sound. Euca was very serious while Violet could hardly take anything seriously. They might have both had short tempers, but they manifested very differently. Euca has always been rude and had a sharp tongue, while Violet often made her point through physical violence.

There was some overlap, of course. When you spend almost every waking hour around someone, you tend to pick up each other's traits. And so Violet would often say something scathing while delivering one of her beat downs, while Euca' own sharp words became a warning and a prelude to flashes of physical violence.

The true difference between them only became apparent after the two had already reached adolescence. That was when their oldest sibling, Thyme, started teaching them shapeshifting. While Violet had been excited over getting to learn new forms she could use for combat, Euca had used his new ability to alter his base form. While the changes weren’t completely outward, the flattened front teeth were a great difference from Violet’s long and sharp ones.

That was when the two stopped being completely identical but, while there were some difficulties brought on by the change (mostly from their grandfather not approving of Euca being anything other than a copy of his mother), Violet never stopped being the sibling closest to Euca.

It was Euca’s first attempt at freedom, at distancing himself from what had been planned for him since even before his birth. It would be a long while before Euca attempted anything new after.

 

* * *

 

_Eucalyptus._

In Pooka Battle Academy, Eucalyptus finally got to taste true freedom. There was no grandfather to watch over everything he did, and his teachers were no longer tutors hired by his grandfather and loyal to their employer only. The only teacher who remained the same was Nasturtium, who was a friend of Eucalyptus’ mother and understandably more trustworthy than most. Finally, Eucalyptus experienced for the first time what it was like to live without someone constantly trying to spy on you.

Well, Dill was there, but her disregard of Eucalyptus had always appeared more as negligence than outright verbal abuse. In addition to that, Eucalyptus’ older sister had never much cared for their grandfather, so she had no need or desire to spy on Eucalyptus for their crotchety grandfather.

It was at the Pooka Battle Academy that Eucalyptus made his first friends outside his twin sister. However, that didn’t happen right away. Eucalyptus had never gathered the experience of interacting with Pookas outside his family that he’d needed for befriending them, and Eucalyptus even convinced himself for a while that he didn’t _need_ to make friends.

Befriending Wattle was more an accident than any effort on either of their parts. Wattle, as student healer, did not appreciate Eucalyptus’ exhaustion-related injuries that were a result from overtraining. Eucalyptus, meanwhile, did not appreciate having some magic-user lecture him on how much physical training he assigned himself.

The solution to the problem had come from Wattle’s mentor, head healer Aloe. Said solution had been to force Eucalyptus to spend time in the infirmary, observing the work the healers did so that he could see the kind of damage warriors caused each other and themselves. Supposedly, Aloe had wanted to teach Eucalyptus to appreciate his body more. Instead Eucalyptus had learned to appreciate Wattle’s hardworking nature.

Eucalyptus worked hard because it was literally all he knew. It had been drilled into him since he was young that he was expendable, that he was _supposed to_ suffer for the sake of others, so that they didn’t need to. However, before he’d come to Pooka Battle Academy, he’d sometimes had other things to distract him from training until he dropped. Violet and Edelweiss wanted to spend time with Eucalyptus, and Eucalyptus himself occasionally enjoyed reading in the calm and peaceful presence of his father or Thyme.

At the Pooka Battle Academy there was no Violet or Edelweiss to distract Eucalyptus. Neither was there Oak or Thyme to do nothing more than breathe to fill the silence of a room. As the son of the Hope of the People, Eucalyptus had some special privileges; this included a personal room not shared by anymore. Frankly, Eucalyptus would have preferred to share. He had a small army of siblings, and had always shared a room with his twin, _of course_ a silent room all to himself would unnerve him and drive him outside, where the only thing left to do was train.

The make-shift probation Aloe planned did help out in the end, however. Spending time in the infirmary did lessen the time Eucalyptus spent training and pushing his body. And when the probation ended, he simply kept coming back. At first he always brought a book with him, just to have a non-silent room to read in but, eventually, he and Wattle began to talk to each other, moving from simple greetings to brief exchanges and finally to long conversations that sometimes led to Aloe slapping them both on their heads to get them to focus on what they were actually supposed to be doing.

Pooka Battle Academy came to mean freedom to Eucalyptus, but it was Wattle who came to show Eucalyptus what friends were, and it was a lesson that sunk in much more faster, even if not with more ease.

 

* * *

 

_Aster._

Eucalyptus had died. He'd felt his perception growing confused as he'd struggled to breathe. He'd felt dizzy, despite lying down and he'd been too weak to do much to protest when an unfamiliar voice had started to tell him that it wouldn't be the end.

Eucalyptus had died, but his body was still moving around. He wasn't dead, but neither was he alive like before. He could breathe, he could remember his life up until now, but he didn't have a heartbeat. How could he when he didn't have a heart?

The space within his chest had been hollowed out to make space for the Light of Creation. It settled comfortably there, both physically present and not. The Light kept him alive, so it was obviously concrete in some form, but its power was intangible and outside anyone's reach. It was like Eucalyptus had become a receptacle for unimaginable power, being able to contain something like this. Pookan magic came from the within, but it wasn't a wellspring of pure might like the Light was.

The difference showed. Eucalyptus' fur had been bleached where the Light had touched it when it had been placed inside Eucalyptus. There was a reason the Light was kept in a specially crafted container; once the Light was removed from the enchantments of the container, it altered everything living it touched permanently.

Even Eucalyptus had been altered by the Light of Creation. He didn't know what changes the Light had made to him when it had been placed within him. He didn't even know if he would keep changing or if the Light was now permanently fused with his being. Eucalyptus didn't even know if he was a Pooka anymore, or merely something that resembled a Pooka in appearance alone.

The first thing Eucalyptus had become aware of when he'd woken up from what he had expected to be eternal sleep had been Nightlight. Nightlight had looked at Eucalyptus like he was a stranger, pale eyes wide with shock and eyebrows lowered in worry. Maybe Nightlight had a point. Maybe Eucalyptus was someone else now.

He still had all of his memories, but maybe those had come along with the body. His life had faded away, it had been given away freely as payment for the restoration of peace. It had been the price Eucalyptus had paid; he wasn't supposed to _get it back_. That wasn't how sacrifice worked, it certainly hadn't worked that way for Eucalyptus' mother.

The Light had saved Eucalyptus from the Fearling taint, but not his mother. Maybe the Light had some form of sentience, enough sentience to plan this, plan for Eucalyptus to become a vessel for it. If that was true, it might as well be that he was more the Light now than Eucalyptus. The Light made flesh with Eucalyptus' body, memories and personality.

Whether he was still himself or something transcended was beside the point. The point was that he couldn't even recognize himself anymore. He couldn't be 'Eucalyptus' anymore. The solution was simple. He needed a new name for people to call him.

'Aster' would do. It was his, even if it was inherited. And the meaning was fine enough. After all, in Pookan, 'aster' stood for 'light'.

 

* * *

 

_Bunny._

When Aster came to, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Nightlight looking down at him with a worried expression. Aster briefly wondered if this was going to become a habit, of Nightlight looking like he'd died whenever he got pulled back from the edge. Then again, he _had_ died that first time. Maybe he'd died again.

He'd been about to ask about that when his ears registered sniffling. The icy room was full of people and his thoughts scattered to recall exactly what he had been doing before. Several lifetimes and identities were settling into their places in his mind, like something had come and misplaced every single memory.

Jackfruit. Why was he always the first thought on his mind, even after all this time? The Pookas were no more, they'd been wiped out by Pitch Black and his Fearling army.

He recalled another extinction now. Another path of revenge. His people had been killed by thoughtless monsters and his vengeance was only meaningful when he found the one who'd unleashed them. He'd struck Pitch Black down, finding his peace in killing and his own death in the act. Neither of them had stayed dead, but it had ended the cycle.

The foreign memories in his mind were of curses and old magic. A people who all stood as one, the Sister of Flight, had all fallen to the revenge of a cursed once-man monkey king. The monkey king had struck down a winged woman who he'd seen as the cause of his curse, rather than his own cruelty, and the woman's sisters had fallen with her, as they existed as one. Toothiana had seen her mother's death and what her death had done to her people, and yet she'd found it in her to spare the perpetrator. Her vengeance was found in the act of living her life pure of heart, while the target of her vengeance lived until the victims of his cruelty caught up with him and ended his wretched life.

Aster didn't know where these memories came from, until he saw Toothiana's face beside Nightlight's own, relief evident in her bright eyes. He felt her magic then, the remains of a mind meld. They'd exchanged memories, Toothiana showing Aster hers in order to get Aster's own reassembling themselves.

"Aster," Toothiana spoke softly. "Thank goodness."

"Mister Bunnymund," a new voice whimpered and Aster recognized her as the one who'd been crying. Katherine. "Are you alright?"

"Eucalyptus," Nightlight murmured then and Aster turned his eyes to his old friend. "Can you speak?"

"Yeah." The word came out as more of a grunt than anything, but it did spur a relieved laugh from the side. The large, broad-shouldered warrior finally reminded Aster just who these people were collectively. The Guardians. He was among the Guardians, and they were concerned for his well-being.

"We really need to set one thing straight here," Aster spoke as he started to push himself into a sitting position. Toothiana helped prop him up and Aster noted that the she was much stronger than she looked, with her narrow hands holding a firm grip on his arm. "I'd rather you all not call me a different name. It's confusing."

Nightlight nodded silently, doubtlessly guessing that 'Eucalyptus' was very far down the list of options.

Aster felt the pieces of his mind finally settling fully into their places. He pointed at North. "You," he said, not very politely. "You called me 'Bunny' before. That'll do just fine."

Bunny watched a smile come across North's face and his own face threatened to mimic the expression. He lowered his face. "Easter Bunny, one of the Guardians, right?"

Katherine laughed then, throwing her arms around Bunny in a welcoming gesture, whispering "yes" into his shoulder. Toothiana's hands on his arm held him tighter and North released a deep belly laugh. A small hand patted his back, sprinkling ticklish stardust all over his good jacket. It was fine, he didn't feel much like wearing it anymore anyway.

Bunny looked over to Nightlight and saw the soldier smile softly. Bunny wondered if his friend knew he always came back a bit different every time he passed.

This time he'd changed into a Guardian. Maybe that one would stick.


	2. People Come Into Our Lives for a Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bunny met many people along the way who'd irrevocably change him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  I've heard it said,  
> That people come into our lives  
> For a reason  
> Bringing something we must learn.  
> And we are led to those  
> Who help us most to grow if we let them.  
> And we help them in return.  
> Well, I don't know if I believe that's true  
> But I know I'm who I am today  
> Because I knew you.  
> ~ Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth - For Good  
> 

_Euca_

When Euca was an adolescent, he was moved under the tutelage of a new fighting tutor. His mother had been personally responsible of teaching Euca and Violet the basics of combat, but Nasturtium was a master of armed combat, had even trained their mother before.

The older Pooka's fur was a medium dark gray shade, the color either his original one or then the result of age. Nasturtium had an ageless quality to himself, and it was difficult to pinpoint his exact age in comparison to the people Euca knew. He was blatantly older than Edelweiss, but wasn't nearly as worn down as Callistemon. The warrior was retired from active service, that much Euca knew; it was the reason he now had the time to teach Euca and Violet, as a favor to the twins' mother.

Euca and Violet stood beside each other at attention when Nasturtium observed them over. He seemed satisfied with their outward condition as he joined his hands behind his back and spoke: "Have you girls tried out any weapons before?"

Euca opened his mouth to answer, but Violet's angry voice cut him off as she snarled: "Euca's a boy!"

Nasturtium paused, looking out of sorts for a moment. He frowned as he murmured: "I'm sure Callistemon said that Edel had twin daughters."

"Callistemon is a waste of space and _wrong_!" Violet kept her voice high, like volume would help her message get through better. Once again, Euca's sister was headed towards a scolding.

Except that Nasturtium's reaction to the girl's words was to laugh, heartily albeit shortly. "Can't argue with that," the teacher spoke more into his hands than to the kids and looked down on Euca.

Feeling suddenly very self-conscious of his long buckteeth, Euca wrung his hands into the loose fabric of the wrap top he'd worn for training.

Nasturtium's expression loosened into a smile. "The old idiot obviously got it wrong," the teacher said with conviction. "Clearly you're Edel's son." He clapped his hands. "So, do you have any ideas what kind of weapon a boy like you would like?"

"I've never really had weapon training before," Euca admitted.

"How about your sister?" Nasturtium asked as he turned to Violet.

Violet seemed much more enthusiastic now that Nasturtium had 'proven' himself. "Knives!" she shouted happily. "I definitely want to learn how to throw knives, how to attack weak spots, all the works."

"You got it." Nasturtium chuckled. He looked over to Euca again. "But how about we pick something for your brother first?"

"Gotcha." Violet nodded and clapped Euca roughly on the back. "Let's go check the armory."

Violet skipped off to lead the way, most likely spurred on by the thought of finally getting to touch the weapons they hadn't been allowed before in their training. Euca and Nasturtium followed at a more sedate pace, Euca sneaking glances at his teacher as they walked.

Euca certainly hadn't expected a teacher like Nasturtium when he'd heard that their grandfather had approved their combat tutor. He'd expected someone who'd follow Callistemon's lead in everything, who'd tried to beat Euca and Violet into a shape 'more fitting for the Bunnymund family'. Instead, the combat instructor was reasonable and even kind, and Euca had no doubt that he'd pick Edelweiss over Callistemon any day.

Nasturtium was clearly someone Euca could count on.

 

* * *

 

_Eucalyptus_

The first thing Eucalyptus noticed when he walked inside the infirmary was that the serving healer was _tiny_. Eucalyptus himself wasn't the tallest Pooka around, but the golden yellow Pooka wearing the pale red healer's garment was almost an entire head shorter than him.

Eucalyptus knew better than others how height wasn't much of an indicator of ability among Pookas, with being on the smaller side himself, so he wasn't all that bothered by it even as the healer started bossing him around, telling him to get himself seated and starting to fuss about the blue Pooka when he noticed Eucalyptus' favoring his right arm.

"I'm Healer-in-training Wattle," the small and fluffy Pooka spoke quickly. "What happened here?"

"I'm not really sure. My arm just hurts," Eucalyptus explained. "I'm pretty sure I didn't sprain or twist it, the joints are fine, so I don't know what's wrong."

The healer hummed as he ran his hands over the muscles of Eucalyptus' arm, sending out probes of magic to check for damage areas. "When did it start hurting?"

"When I finished with my forms?" Eucalyptus hesitated as he answered, trying to recall. "It twinged a bit during it, too."

"Ah." Wattle pulled away and looked up at Eucalyptus. "It's a repetitive strain injury." He placed Eucalyptus' arm on the blue Pooka's lap. "You've been pushing yourself too hard and your muscles couldn't keep up and now you have an infection."

"Alright." Eucalyptus nodded, pleased. That sounded like a simple injury. "So, are you just going to zap me so that I can get back to my training?"

The healer's affable expression vanished instantly as the light green eyes narrowed. " _Excuse me_?"

Eucalyptus blinked. "Is there something more to treating it? It's just an infection, right?"

"Magic can't heal exhaustion!" Wattle cried out in outrage. "Don't you know anything about even the most rudimentary of healing arts?"

"Apparently I _don't_ ," Eucalyptus growled, voice dipping dangerously low. "That's why trained experts exist: so that I don't have to know these things."

Wattle released a strangled scream, grabbing onto this floppy ears and for a moment Eucalyptus worried that the other might yank them off. But then the golden Pooka sighed and released his grip, placing his hands on his hips instead.

"Okay, okay..." he murmured, breathing slowly. "Obviously you're just a meat head who just cares about bulking up, so-"

"Hey," Eucalyptus cut in. "I have specialized training, just like you do, only in a different area." He crossed his arms, suppressing a wince. "But, unlike you, I am already an expert and not 'in-training'."

The healer's eyes narrowed and his fur fluffed up like Mountain Pookas' pelt tended to do. He stood up, but it didn't do much to fix the height difference between them even with Eucalyptus sitting down.

"If you keep using that arm, it'll become useless, you idiot!" Wattle snapped. "You'd better take some time off or prepare to shift a new one to replace this one!"

Eucalyptus was about to say something scathing in response, but the sight of the head healer approaching from behind Wattle had him forgetting his words entirely.

"How about you both quiet down?" Head Healer Aloe spoke in a threatening rumble. "By the Constellations, this is an infirmary."

"Sorry," was murmured from two mouths at once.

Head Healer Aloe was _intimidating_ , with chilling black eyes and age-whitened fur. Eucalyptus found himself at a complete loss for words as the healer confirmed Wattle's diagnosis and assigned him to rest his arm until the infection receded.

Well, it wasn't so bad, as long as he could get away from Wattle as fast as possible.

"Maybe following Wattle's work for a few weeks will give you proper appreciation for healing and your own body," Aloe concluded.

Eucalyptus groaned. Right, of course. _Of course_ he was going to be stuck with Wattle for the entirety of his benching. Well, that certainly was going to be unproductive.

 

* * *

 

_Aster_

Aster encountered the woman in the middle of one spring, throwing his season out of synch with her magic. She’d summoned a completely unseasonal storm that Aster couldn’t do much about with his earth-based magic. All he could do was catch up to the one causing all the havoc and yell at her to stop.

“I was just having a bit of fun!” the goddess laughed, voice a crone-like cackle regardless her youthful face. “The only way I know how.”

Weather spirits. Aster groaned. They were all the same, all about the phenomenon with little regard for hardworking spirits like Aster, who just wanted to keep things orderly and plants growing.

“I doubt finding thrills is _that_ difficult,” Aster scoffed as he marched over to the cliff. The woman was standing right on the edge, the storm winds whipping at her long, white dress, making her look like a part of the storm.

“Maybe I have become a bit dispassionate along the years,” the weather spirit admitted, spreading her arms to the surrounding wind. “But what do you expect, when my only company _is_ the wind?”

“The lightning is still unnecessary,” Aster replied gruffly, not feeling terribly sympathetic towards this season-wrecker. He’d only taken over the duties over spring from Ostara less than a decade ago. He didn’t have the experience or patience to deal with this kind of interruptions to his work.

The woman turned to the storm. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” The flashes died down, some faraway strikes rumbling from the distance. “How about that?” The weather spirit finally turned to Aster properly.

She had incredibly bright eyes. Aster rarely saw eyes that were such a clear color on Earth, earthly eye colors being more often kaleidoscopes of different shades. Aster was beginning to suspect that solid eye colors might have been more of a spirit thing on Earth.

“Ah-ha.” The weather spirit laughed, a dry sound that was as old as the wind. “I took your breath away for a moment there; don’t think I couldn’t tell.”

“W-who are you?” Aster managed to speak through his wonder. He would have been aghast at this strange spirit speaking to him in such a way, if she hadn’t also seemed so very ancient.

“I call the storms as I please,” the woman replied, smiling a sharp smile. “Outside of what I can do I am also known by the name Imma.”

“Imma,” Aster repeated, committing the name to memory. He gave the woman an answering smile. “I am Aster.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Aster,” Imma said and her eyes flashed almost white as the storm winds began to die down. A gentle drizzle began raining down. “They say you’re the oldest of our kind.”

“Give or take a wishing star,” Aster replied easily. He spread an arm to the direction away from the cliff edge. “Walk with me, and you can tell me what your work entails. Maybe we can work on an agreement over storm etiquette.”

Imma smiled once more, showing off pearly white teeth. “Sounds like a delight.”

This was going to be great. Aster could feel it.

 

* * *

 

_Bunny_

Bunny first met the young man on the Alps in Austria, on one of the best spots for wild edelweiss to grow. The flower naturally held a close place in Bunny's heart, being a living reminder of the mother who'd always understood him and had, in the end, given her life to save him. When something meant that much to you, you tended to want the best.

Many people appreciated the worth of 'the best', however, and so Bunny's selected spot had a scrawny winter spirit occupying it when he appeared.

Of course he was a winter spirit, Bunny had gotten very closely acquainted with the last one when they'd all been wiped out. Now there was a new one, no doubt the work of the Mother to restore balance.

It had taken two centuries, but the Mother had assured Bunny that she knew what she was doing when the spring spirit had voiced his concerns over the season preceding his own. Here was the result of her hard work, a weak-looking thing in a frame with obviously stunted growth. Maybe he was just the first of a new wave of winter entities? Surely he couldn't be meant to become the next sovereign.

"What are you up to, rabbit man?" the spirit's voice deeper than expected when he spoke, and he was faster too, wind throwing him right in Bunny's space in a brief moment. "This spot is taken."

By the Constellations, but this spirit had blue eyes. It was the blue of a bright nebula that stole Bunny's breath away. The boy had almost completely white hair as well. The resemblance was uncanny.

"Jackfrrr..." Bunny cut himself off only barely when he realized his fumble, "Frost." Of course this couldn't be him. Jackfruit was a _Pooka_ , not this...human-shaped thing.

Jack Frost raised one of his frosted over eyebrows. "You okay there, rabbit man?" He then grinned widely, twirling his shepherd's crook enthusiastically. "But, you know my name, you know me?"

Bunny crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm a spring spirit, it's my business to know of anyone who has business with the weather."

"Huh." Jack's voice wasn't terribly interested. "So, what's a spring spirit doing all the way here in autumn?"

"I happen to enjoy edelweiss flowers," Bunny confessed. "I was hoping to immortalize some."

The shepherd's crook smacked against Bunny's chest in warning, but not hard enough to hurt. "No," the winter spirit spoke, his deep voice lowering further. "I came here to flower gaze and I'm not letting some overgrown forest spirit pick and press them."

Bunny sighed, digging into his satchel and pulling out a sketchpad, which he promptly used to smack Jack's chest back. "I'm an artist, not a botanist." Actually, he very much was one, but he hadn't come here to exercise that one of his hobbies. "Also, I'm the Easter Bunny, not just any run-of-the-mill forest spirit."

Jack let Bunny stay after that, albeit grudgingly. Bunny didn't mind and he quickly settled into a relaxed mood in the edelweiss field.

Frankly, drawing and plants were both thing that really helped soothe Bunny, and it was nice to have a quiet company some distance away, especially when it was someone who seemed to enjoy plants as much as Bunny did. It was one of the better days Bunny had had in a long time.

He hoped Jack Frost felt the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The joke is Bunny was a lot more comfortable during his and Jack's first meeting than Jack was. Now who's anti-social?
> 
> Also, Bunny seriously misjudged a couple of his important first meetings. It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic.


	3. No Magic Could Happen to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bunny has always considered others more magical than he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  I never believed in things that I couldn't see  
> I said if I can't feel it then how can it be  
> No, no magic could happen to me  
> And then I saw you
> 
> I couldn't believe it, you took my heart  
> I couldn't retrieve it, said to myself  
> What's it all about  
> Now I know there can be no doubt
> 
> ~ America - You Can Do Magic  
> 

_Euca_

Euca's training didn't prioritize magic. The Bunnymund family in general wasn't well-known for practising magic, although Euca had seen some of the Pookas who'd married into the family perform magic on special occasions. Most of the magic Euca saw consisted of magical painting by socialites, feats of artistry that had taken years to master, impressive and forever unattainable to Euca himself.

The exception to the Bunnymunds' almost-ban on magic was shape-shifting. That was the one magical skill that was not only allowed, but also expected from members of the family. As such, Euca wasn't really doing anything wrong as he sought out his oldest brother for private lessons. Still, he was a bit too young to learn shape-shifting, as he hadn't fully finished growing, so Euca really didn't want to get caught by some well-meaning adult. Eventually, word would get to Callistemon, and there would be no telling what the man would do to stop Euca from disobeying him.

As long as he wasn't caught red-handed, Euca was safe. He wasn't openly defiant towards his grandfather, unlike Violet, so no one would suspect him of doing something like this, something that went so far against Callistemon's plans.

Thyme was home from the Pooka Battle Academy. He'd be graduating soon, so he was focusing on his studies even during leave. This meant that Euca could find Thyme in his room almost without fail.

When Euca knocked on his brother's door, there was no verbal answer, but there was a sound of the lock dislodging itself. Immediately cheered up by that, Euca quickly slipped into Thyme's room, closing the door after himself.

"Thyme?" Euca spoke as he turned to his brother, seated at his desk and bent over a thick tome. "It's me."

"It's always you." Thyme's answer was blunt, but not cruelly so. Thyme wasn't well-versed in the finer points of social interaction, but neither was Euca. They understood each other's frustration over social niceties and could be as straightforward with each other as they wanted. That was why it really was always Euca who sought Thyme out whenever the oldest of their parents' children was home.

Thyme's grey and brown ears stood on attention, a clear sign he was paying attention to Euca even as he finished whatever his book dealt with. Thyme had always been good at multitasking.

"I want you to teach me shape-shifting." Euca went straight to the point, because beating around the bush and the use of veiled innuendo had always tended to go right over Thyme's head. "I want to look like a boy."

There were several moments of silence, as Thyme nodded before finished the chapter of his book. Then, finally, Thyme closed the book and turned his chair around to face Euca properly.

"You have read up on shifting." The phrase was somewhere between a statement and a question. It was an acknowledgement that Euca did tend to look things up on his own but it was also an opening for any questions Euca might have over his reading.

"I know it's dangerous, since I'm not finished growing," Euca explained, voice getting a touch desperate as he went on. "I just need to look different enough that everyone will stop calling me a girl all the time." Euca stopped talking when Thyme stood up from his chair and walked the couple of steps between them. His hands lifted and his thumbs pushed Euca's front lip up a touch.

Thyme checked Euca's teeth over for some moments before releasing the little Pooka and speaking out: "Your teeth have finished settling, you could shift those."

"Yes," Euca gasped out, face lighting up in a smile that was so wide it hurt. "That's exactly what I want, I just want to _look_ right."

"Okay," was all Thyme said before petting Euca between the ears. It was simple acceptance, and it was something Euca sorely lacked in the surroundings he was growing up in.

There was a reason Thyme was his favorite sibling besides his twin.

 

* * *

 

_Eucalyptus_

Eucalyptus had always been more practical than whimsical. He didn’t spend time fantasizing about things that couldn’t be, nor did he feel especially embittered over things he couldn’t have. The body his grandfather had chosen for him had been the one exception, the one thing he'd been bitter about, but even learning to turn his body into what he wanted it to be had been a practical process of simply finding a willing instructor and then going for it. For a time, Eucalyptus was satisfied with simply that, as his adolescent growth slowed down, allowing him to shape-shift on a much deeper level than simply altering his teeth. There wasn’t really anything else he wanted or needed that badly.

Sometimes he felt a touch of yearning, however. He didn’t let it control him, but it was still there, whenever he saw magic. He hadn’t thought it would get much worse after seeing all the marvels he could see in the magical art performances at family gatherings. As such, meeting Wattle and seeing his simple ease with magical art had been eye-opening. Eucalyptus had never seen magic as a casual but passionate hobby before.

Eucalyptus had felt yearning when he'd seen magic before. Magic for the sake of creating something beautiful wasn't something that had been a priority in his training. On the contrary, creative magic was one of things that had been deemed to take valuable time away from Eucalyptus learning the skills required of the future Hope of the People. Still, if he’d been allowed one whimsical thing, it would have been to draw in the air, even if only lines and even if only in a single, vibrant color, just for the sake of doing it.

He was used to it, so Eucalyptus wasn’t bothered when his first reaction to seeing Jackfruit doing magic was a surge of yearning. The flowers Jackfruit was bent over grew vibrant with each subtle motion of the Pooka's fingers. It was skilful and done so casually that of course Eucalyptus would find it in himself to appreciate it.

It was when he realized that he was looking more at Jackfruit himself than the flowers that he realized something was off. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Jackfruit before; he’d seen the other plenty. But he was now dressed in his new officer uniform, the blue complimenting his pure white pelt much better than the green color of the cadets. And his expression was such a peculiar mixture of gentleness and focus.

It wasn’t the magic or the beauty that Eucalyptus yearned for, it was Jackfruit himself.

Eucalyptus snuck closer for a better look, only to accidentally startle Jackfruit and get hit right in the middle of his face.

That just about summed up everything about his misguided crush on Jackfruit.

 

* * *

 

_Aster_

Aster shivered as a cold wind breezed past. He’d worn a heavier coat in consideration of the season, but the mountain was high enough for it to not matter in the long run. He was starting to regret coming all this way just for some herbs.

"It's _freezing_ ," the Pooka said empathetically.

The woman standing beside him laughed, and the wind blew harder in reaction. Weather sprites.

"Think on the bright side," Imma spoke, blue eyes reflecting light like the surface of the ocean. "Enough of this, and you might grow a proper winter pelt." Pale lips stretched into a rare grin. "You'd look quite _fetching_ in white."

The words brought a laugh out of Aster. The very idea was ridiculous to him. Pookas didn't get winter pelts, and his family didn't have white Pookas. Maybe in another life he could have personally done something about that.

"I really hope you're joking," Aster said, still smiling with amusement. "I'd look _terrible_ in white."

Imma hummed as she gave Aster a once-over. She smirked. "If nothing else, we'd at least match."

"Definitely not," Aster insisted. The wind blew again, and Aster's body practically convulsed with the shiver. "Damn it!"

"Oh, you poor darling." Imma stepped closer, reaching her hands out. "Give me your hands, let's see if I can help you out."

Aster followed his friend's instructions and his hands were enclosed within Imma's own. The woman's hands felt about as wind-bitten as Aster's own and the Pooka doubted she could warm him up through touch alone. He still didn't understand the full details of Imma's magical capabilities, however, so maybe there was something she could do on a magical front.

Imma lifted their joined hands up and pressed a single kiss on Aster's knuckles. There was a surge of magic at the gesture, spreading through him like a drink of hot tea after a snowy day. It was the intimacy of the magical transfer that had Aster jumping back, however, rather than the magic itself.

"W-what _was_ that?" Aster asked even as he noticed that he didn't feel the cold anymore.

"A little bit of special magic I have." Imma still smiled, her hands momentarily resisting as Aster pulled out of her grasp. "Did you like it?"

There were several moments of silence as Aster attempted to decipher Imma's expression. Finally, he hedged: "I don't feel cold anymore."

"That's what the magic does," Imma informed him, stepping closer right into Aster's personal space. "There are still other ways I could warm you up."

Aster stepped back. "I'm actually good now," the Pooka said with a grateful smile. "Thanks, but there's no need to go into such an effort on my account."

"I really don't mind," Imma insisted, laying a light hand on Aster's clothed arm. There was nothing but sincerity in her expression.

"Thank you," Aster said with a soft smile. "That's very kind of you." The closeness was a touch more than what he was comfortable with, but he supposed he'd known the weather spirit long enough to allow her this much. "You're a good friend."

The hand around Aster's arm squeezed tighter for a moment. "Indeed," Imma murmured. "The best of friends."

Aster chuckled. "I'm not sure how flattering that would be," the Pooka said with a touch of self-deprecation. "I don't exactly have many friends."

"You won't need anyone else," Imma claimed, even as she released her grip on Aster. "I'll always be here for you."

"I do appreciate it." Aster smiled at the other, although he wasn't sure how sincere the expression was. He never knew what to do about the parts of Imma that were so _absolute_. "I'll return the gesture."

Imma smiled so wide that Aster could have counted her teeth, white as freshly fallen snow. "What more could I ask for?"

Maybe magical beings just were something different, something a touch strange. Maybe Aster had never been magical enough to understand.

 

* * *

 

_Bunny_

There were many different types of magic on Earth, Bunny discovered as a member of the Guardians. He'd already encountered several examples of seasonal varieties, of natural magics both chaotic and controlled. The Guardians, however, had very different magics from both those as well as each other’s.

Queen Toothiana had magic of the flesh. She could separate herself into several smaller tooth fairies, all of them connected to her in mind. The little fairies acted independently and were capable of making decisions for themselves, but all of them could deliver information they knew to Toothiana instantaneously, and Toothiana could give them instructions from a continent away. It was nothing the Pookas had ever been able to do, and Bunny marvelled at the special ability.

Katherine didn't even seem to have any magic, at least at first. The brunette seemed, by all accounts, to be a regular human girl who'd somehow just gotten whisked away by all the magic and whimsy. The young woman was very intuitive, capable of seeing things others couldn't. At first Bunny thought it was all simple intuition, until he saw her writing.

The things Katherine wrote down were things she couldn't know or even guess, because she'd need to have _some_ information to use her intuition _on_ to make such assumptions. It was a developing ability, some form of near-omniscience that manifested itself in writing. There was no way she would have known Bunny's connection to hope and life just by guessing. But there it was, written down on the pages of another one of her ’story books’.

While Katherine was no warrior, she might have been the most powerful one among the Guardians.

Nightlight was more familiar. His magic was of the tools. The moonlight that shone in his weapons, the spacelight he served as a conduit for. It was the complete opposite of Toothiana's magic, as Nightlight's magic was one that could never be duplicated on Earth. It was something that was purely of the Golden Age, one of the greatest weapons of the Lunanoff army. Even Pookas had been impressed by the enchanted weaponry, developing their own versions of them.

North's magic stole Bunny's breath away the first time he saw it. It wasn't because it was particularly artistic or intrinsic, but simply because it was so achingly familiar, even more so than Nightlight's. North _built_ things. He could build things that had magic in them, like any Pooka could have. It was equal measures homesickness-inducing, and comforting.

Bunny might have treated North more warmly after he saw the Workshop. He'd never admit to it, however.

Sanderson was in a league of his own. Bunny knew enough about Shooting Stars in theory to not be startled by the way Sanderson brought dreams into existence, how his sands morphed to match desire. He'd grant the star in question this much; he knew his own magic well and knew exactly how to use it to the best effect.

"Hardly," Bunny scoffed as he saw the imaged Sandy drew for him. Suggestions, guesses, things Sandy had picked up because he knew desire. "You're delusional."

Sandy somehow managed to add emphasis to the images his sands changed into. It was no use pretending he didn't understand; Sandy knew that Bunny knew how to read the picture communication.

"I won't say I've never wanted a family," Bunny said as he crossed his arms and glared down at the golden humanoid. "But I definitely don't see this mismatched excuse of a team as my family." The Pooka whirled around and marched off.

Clearly Sanderson's magic was _broken_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have another mood-swing chapter, with fluffy shenanigans and Imma creeping on Bunny all concluded with Bunny being the biggest tsundere alive.


	4. An Amalgam of Sorrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bunny learned to hate by measures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  I am merely the product  
> Of the life that I've lived  
> An amalgam of sorrows  
> And the wisdom they give
> 
> But the weight has grown heavy  
> And it's dragging me down  
> It's so hard not to sink now  
> But I don't want to drown
> 
> ~ Assemblage 23 - Damaged  
> 

_Euca_

Adolescence was a difficult time for Euca. It was at this point that he truly began to see himself as an individual instead of as an extension of someone else. Before, he'd always been his mother's successor or his sister's twin, but now he was becoming something else, something wholly unique and his own.

It was natural, Edelweiss had told Euca in a kind voice (her voice was always kind when speaking to Euca). Everyone had to decide who they were at some point in their life, and it could even be a long process. Euca didn't need to rush it.

Except that Euca did feel a sense of urgency in his self-discovery. His body was still growing, settling into what would become his natural base form, but Euca could already tell it was going in the _wrong direction_.

It was mostly internal. Pookas held a great deal inside their bodies, from magical cores to sexual organs. It was part of what made them such effective warriors; it meant all of their vital points were tucked away between everything else. But some of it was on the outside too.

Euca's biggest problem was with his teeth. They were beautiful teeth, long and strong and capable of biting through flesh and even bone. He'd clearly gotten his teeth from his mother, just like Violet, or Laurel and Dill, whose teeth were only slightly shorter than their younger siblings'.

Euca had long teeth like he was a _girl_. By itself this wasn't supposed to be a problem. Pookas generally didn't judge people based on outward characteristics, especially since tooth length could be a bit arbitrary. Even Nasturtium had immediately corrected himself when Violet had told the weapons instructor that Euca wasn't a girl.

The problem was Callistemon. It was always Callistemon. Every time Euca's mother looked unhappy, Callistemon had done something. And every time some restriction was placed on Euca and Violet, it was because Callistemon had ordered it.

Callistemon wanted Euca to be a girl. Edelweiss had explained it with a voice filled with regret, when Violet had trashed the room she shared with Euca when she'd been denied the right to go outside and meet people. Edelweiss had sat the twins down on Euca's bedding (that bed being the only thing Violet hadn't shredded with her new knives), and had told them of the hand their grandfather had had in their birth.

Callistemon had demanded perfect heirs from their mother. He'd wanted absolutely perfect replicas that could be taught the exact same things she'd been taught. Their entire lives had to be carefully controlled so that nothing Callistemon deemed 'unnecessary' would be included. Apparently all of their older siblings, who'd been born and raised free, were unfit for the role their grandfather needed them to fill.

Life sometimes meant doing sacrifices, Edelweiss had told the twins. Her sacrifice had been to let someone else decide what form her children would be born in. The twins' sacrifice would be to bear with their grandfather until they left home to finish training. Then they'd be out of the man's reach.

Violet had always been more aggressive than Euca. Her reaction had been to lay the blame for everything displeasing about her life at their grandfather's feet (not unreasonable) and to resolve to hate the man for the rest of her days (a tad extreme, but perhaps Euca was simply wrong about this one thing).

Violet had never believed in the old Pookan wisdom of the nobility of sacrifice. She'd referred to it with such unflattering language that Euca had to wonder just where she could have snuck off to within the family warren to learn such words.

Euca remained quiet. He'd always been a quiet child, his parents kept reminding him, quiet and serious. Violet insisted that he just liked to sulk. And maybe he did sulk, but he had good reason to.

Euca had been taught enough about Pookan magitech to know how it could be used to influence the traits children inherited from each of their parents. With Pookan technology and enough knowledge about genetics, it was possible to play with genes like they were puzzle pieces in a children's game. It was fully possible to decide what sex a child born had.

While hatred wasn't something Euca really had in him, he could understand Violet's desire to blame their grandfather for her problems. Euca was doing that too. He was fully willing to blame his grandfather for the fact that he'd been born looking like a girl when he was supposed to be a boy.

 

* * *

 

_Aster_

Something was wrong. Aster might not have anything to do with the winter season, but he was connected to _all_ life. This meant that when something was weakening spirits as winter fell, Aster could tell, because the lights of their lives were starting to fade.

Worried beyond measure, because he knew he couldn't help if he were to lose someone he cared about, Aster had to check on each of his friends. But Ostara seemed immune to whatever it was when he'd visited the goddess, and Imma he found creating a winter storm.

“The season's messed up,” Aster declared as he cleared the remaining distance between them in a single long leap.

“I know,” Imma said, seemingly not overly bothered by Aster’s panic. “It’s only affecting winter spirits.”

“What does that mean for you?” Aster was still so unfamiliar with this broad, diverse world with its different magics and inhabitants. He had no way to help if this thing was a threat to Imma.

“Don’t worry,” Imma spoke nonchalantly. “I won’t be hurt.”

Aster sighed. “Of course I’m concerned,” the Pooka said softly. “I might not know any of these spirits, but they might be dying from something I don’t understand.”

“Don’t concern yourself with it, then.” Imma crossed her arms. “You have no way to help and you don’t know them. There is no need for you to fall apart over this.”

A part of Aster agreed, the part of him that was still so _tired_ of putting others over himself every time because that was what he’d been trained to do. Another part of him disagreed, however, the part of himself that was willing to put others over himself because it was the right thing to do.

He was a stranger to this world, what were these people to him? But the only reason he was a stranger was because he refused to go outside. The world had gotten so large in his absence. Was it even worth it to see this world where the people he met could die from things he couldn’t possibly understand?

“A bit of empathy won’t kill me,” Aster spoke out finally. “Regardless whether or not I can do anything about it.”

“You have such vibrant emotions, Aster,” Imma spoke with a slow smile coming to her lips. “But you always _waste_ them.”

“And you feel too sparingly,” Aster grumbled as he crossed his arms in turn. “You’re so casually callous.”

Imma laughed breathlessly, more an empty gesture than a sincere expression of amusement. “I’m neither casual nor callous towards you, my Aster.”

Aster scowled. “Imma, not now,” he said sternly. “I don’t like these games on a good day, and this is decisively a bad one.”

All traces of playfulness vanished from Imma’s face, and she regarded Aster coldly as she spoke slowly: “It’s not a game.”

Aster’s hackles rose (he’d never been good with blatant flirtation) and he took a decisive step backward, getting some distance to the weather spirit. “Imma…” he started warningly.

“I don’t think I want to be called ‘Imma’ anymore,” the spirit spoke decisively. “I’ve thought of changing it to ‘Irma’, it’s much more regal-sounding, don’t you think?”

Not really one to be bothered by a change of topic forming an opening out of an awkward situation, Aster was receptive to the question.

“Who am I to judge? I’ve changed my name in the past too.” The Pooka shrugged. “Irma it is, then.”

Irma was now smiling once more, eyes glowing from an inner magic.

“Aster,” the weather spirit started. “I could help you forget the time of the name you left behind.”

“No.” Aster didn’t even need to consider the answer. He’d never give up his memories of his people, no matter how much they still hurt sometimes.

Irma wasn’t quite deterred, however, and she kept cajoling him. “I know who you can’t forget, who you see whenever the sky is bright blue and the winter is white.” The weather spirit sidled up to Aster, who bristled.

“I don’t want-” His words got cut off when the other grabbed his coat lapels and brought her face uncomfortable close to his. Aster promptly grabbed her slim waist and hoisted her over his shoulder and into the snow. Really, it was easy, Irma was a lithe thing that made Aster sometimes worry a passing wind might carry her away.

The sound that escaped Irma as she struggled up was the most sincere one he’d heard in ages as she released frustrated half-shrieks from deep within her throat. She whirled around at an equally steaming Aster.

“What was that about?” she snapped, tossing her messed up hair over a shoulder.

Aster crossed his arms again, forming a weak barrier between them. “I should be asking you that.”

“I was _trying_ to make you _forget_ ,” Irma snarled. “Ungrateful ingrate.”

“Without my consent!” Aster snapped back. “That’s your problem, isn’t it? You never _ask_ before you do anymore.”

“I shouldn’t need to!” Irma shrieked. “After all I’ve put up with from you, the distance, the callousness, you never meet me halfway.”

“That’s because I don’t like where you’re pulling me!” Aster growled, straightening his arms and squeezing his hands into fists. “I don’t return your feelings for me, Irma, but you refuse to _see_ that.”

“But you _could_!” Irma insisted, coming closer, her hands lifting to try and grab onto Aster. “If you’d just _let_ me, I could make you forget whoever it is that you always think about. Then you’d be mine.”

“ _No_ , Irma.” Aster steeled his voice, to make sure there was no mistaking his intent. He turned away from his friend. “I can’t and won’t do this with you, Irma.” He started to walk away. “If you can’t respect that, I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

A dry laugh came from behind, touching the tips of Aster’s lowered ears. “You won’t really leave me,” Irma’s self-assured voice spoke out, the woman making no move to stop Aster’s progress. “You’ll come back to me, you’ll see.”

He should just crawl back into the crystal chamber in his Warren, Aster decided. Maybe there people wouldn’t keep letting him down.

 

* * *

 

_Bunny_

Bunny was pretty sure this was one of the worst days of his entire life. He'd been around a long time, so he knew plenty about bad days, but this was just unnecessarily far on the terrible scale.

1968 had been a bleak year for humankind, and that was directly influencing the spirit community as well. It wasn't only the Guardians or holiday spirits that were influenced by humans; the human and spirit realms coexisted in a symbiosis where the good or ill health of one influenced the other. This year had made that abundantly clear for anyone who might have doubted the existence of such a bond.

That was why this Easter was so important. Bunny was hope personified, and he was at his strongest around Easter time. If everything went without a hitch, he could spread out the power of his hope to touch so many more souls than he would have otherwise been able to influence.

Of course, things didn't go without a hitch. In fact, the hitch in questions was a big one, one that had Bunny's precise plans screeching to a halt and forced him to scramble for a solution where all of his hard work didn't go to waste.

People _needed_ this hope.

That was why this blizzard had to go. Bunny didn’t even know where it came from. Winter spirits were hard to come by these days, had been for over four hundred years. As far as he knew, there was only one winter spirit and that weak-looking thing couldn’t have caused _this_.

Finding the source of the storm was a struggle, as Bunny wasn’t the most effective in either cold weather or strong winds. But in the end he managed to find the spirit responsible for the unnatural storm. The wind carried the spirit’s laughter like an echoing cackle from years past. The sound howled and echoed in Bunny’s head as the surrounding cold dug so deep into him that Bunny could have sworn it was soul-deep. It would stop now.

Bunny was screaming indecipherable things as his body morphed, as the spirit paused in spell casting to pay attention to him. Heavy claws struck out as he leaped at the spirit (she was never capable of flight), tackling his target to the ground. Words were no use when his mouth was taken over by fearsome tusks, so he merely roared in intimidation at a face that was _just like hers_.

‘I killed you!’ Bunny’s mind roared as the tiny spirit slithered free from him (he was too big, he’d made himself too big to catch her). He rushed after his opponent, knocking down a slim tree that was in his way.

The thing that stopped him was a snowball that hit his face.

Bunny paused, his rage blinking out and his body shrinking down to leave him standing bewildered in a much gentler weather than the storm from before.

Jack Frost was perched on another tree some distance away, hurriedly packing together another snowball.

Funny, he’d never before noticed how much Jack Frost looked like…

“What was that?” Bunny shouted at the winter spirit.

Jack Frost was clearly startled, fumbling with his snowball. He shot a glower at Bunny. “I should be asking you that!” He pointed an accusing finger at Bunny. “You’re just knocking trees down left and right and trying to _maul_ me like some wild beast!”

Bunny shook his head. “You’re the one messing up my holiday, you no-good winter catastrophe!” the Pooka hollered up at the tree. “Get out of here before I knock this tree down too!”

The next snowball Bunny dodged. The Pooka retaliated by leaping to the bottom of the tree and giving it a threatening kick.

“I’m warning you, you blighter!”

“Ack, okay, okay, I’m so gone!” Jack Frost leaped off the tree and the wind started to blow again. “Get a therapist, rage rabbit!” With that last taunt, the wind swept the spirit off.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Bunny leaned on the tree he’d just threatened to knock down. Like he’d ever hurt plants when he was in his right mind.

Bunny looked over to the tree he’d cracked in half with a single blow. When he wasn’t in his right mind, there was apparently no telling what he might do.

Well, to be fair, for a moment Bunny really had thought that the Snow Queen was back. Destroying his holiday was just the thing she’d do, after all, since she had been his opposite. Winter to his spring, death to his life. Despair to his Hope.

It would remain to be seen if Jack Frost would take up her mantle over that. Despair wasn’t quite as omnipresent as Fear, but it had a habit or rising up to mess up Hope nevertheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Euca had cloning issues. Because he and his sister were basically Edelweiss clones. Add to that Aster's stalker issues and Bunny's rage issues and you get a neat package of baggage. This is the baggabe chapter.


	5. I've Never Given Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to love, Bunny's always been more of an observer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  And down your streets I've walked alone,  
> As if my feet were not my own  
> Such is the path I chose, doors I have opened and closed  
> I'm tired of living this life,  
> Fooling myself, believing we're right, when...  
> I've never given love  
> With any Conviction of the Heart
> 
> ~ Kenny Loggins - Convicton of the Heart

_Euca_

Euca adored his mother. There was no doubt about that. He'd always thought Edelweiss was the kindest, smartest and strongest person there could ever be. The was a reason Euca didn't really mind people wanting him to grow up to be _like_ his mother; he actually did want to be as amazing his mother. Violet disagreed, but Violet liked disagreeing with things on principle, she lived to be as contradictory as Euca was compliant.

Regardless, as Euca grew older and showed first signs of rebellion (it shouldn't take him punching holes into walls for people to stop calling him 'she'), he also grew out of his childhood innocence of thinking his parents without fault.

Edelweiss was important to Euca, she was the one person who could make him feel safe without fail, so he paid attention to things that involved her. As such, he didn't as much judge Edelweiss for any perceived weakness, but simply treated it all as valuable knowledge concerning his mother.

The double-bladed sword of his mother's character faults was the fact that she played favorites. While the jealousy of his older siblings caused Euca no end of grief, he wouldn't have traded his mother's affection for anything, as it was one of the most important things to him when it came to withstanding their grandfather's demanding nature and low regard.

Euca was aware of their mother's favoritism towards him and Violet, but he could never think negatively of that, even as he sympathized with his siblings feeling left out. It wasn't like their mother was indifferent towards the others, she loved all of the children that the husband she loved had given her. She simply had more to teach to Euca and Violet, and more reason to stick close to them, lest they fall too far under Callistemon's power.

Edelweiss was under no illusion of her father's true nature. There was a reason she'd run away in order to be able to marry the person she loved. Edelweiss hadn't as much as mentioned the poet who'd captured her heart to her family; one day she'd simply left, vanishing and moving into a field cottage with her intended. Their wedding ceremony had been a quiet and private affair, the pair not wanting to attract the attention of the rest of the Bunnymund clan, and the two had started their family life together blissfully happy.

Euca had heard about all of this after the fact, as it all happened long before his birth, but his father _was_ a writer and poet and could easily make any story come alive for his children whenever he told it. As such, the story of his parents eloping became Euca's first experience of love.

Of course, Euca's current living situation had made it clear even when the story was told that his parents' happiness couldn't last. In the end Callistemon had found his runaway daughter, and pressured her into returning to the clan. He'd even 'allowed' her to bring her husband with her, on one condition.

The condition had, of course, been that Edelweiss would have at least one more child, this time with the best and brightest of Pooka scientists watching over the process, making sure that the child inherited the best traits for an heir. When Edelweiss had ended up with twins, Callistemon had been even more eager to have the children be exactly what he envisioned, which was why Euca and Violet had been born as perfect duplicates of each other, and almost perfect copies of their mother.

Edelweiss didn't have much strength when it came to her family, Euca learned in his life. Edelweiss' one weakness was her family, which had its ups and downs. On the upside, Edelweiss loved her family unconditionally and, regardless the status of the individuals, all of her children were precious to her. On the downside, she also gave in very easily to people who took advantage of it, and she caved in every time Callistemon ordered her around.

Most likely the reason Edelweiss had run away to get married to Oak had been because she had known she'd give up if her family told her 'no'. That was why she slipped away without a word, so that she wouldn't give in to the demands that would be made of her.

Still, the fact that she _had_ run away was important. The loyalty Edelweiss held for her family hadn't been enough to keep her from trying for Oak anyway. In fact, Edelweiss had been the one to open courtship between the two, when the youngest General in Pookan history had fallen in love with the poet who wrote about light overcoming darkness, of Kozmotis Pitchiner defeating the Fearling horde.

Oak had been the one to teach Euca the difference between thinking positive and wishful thinking. Euca could see his father, in a younger age, teaching his mother that same lesson and kicking off their romance with Oak's upbeat attitude charming the way-too-introspective Edelweiss.

There was something special about Oak. Euca knew that something about his father was stronger than his mother's fear. And that really showed why his parents loved each other so much, even through the hardships and opposition; they fit together and worked together to create a whole that was stronger than anything they could be apart.

 

* * *

 

_Eucalyptus_

Eucalyptus gave the plant in his sister's grab a sullen look. The leaves were pure white and the center was a deep black that reflected no light at all. He knew exactly what this plant was. He also knew what it meant that Dill had one of them.

"You look so disapproving," Dill commented, sounding more amused than anything. The older Bunnymund's interest in Wattle had caused the two siblings to spend more time around each other, and the two were by now at least at ease around each other, even if they couldn't be considered close by any stretch of the word.

"I introduced Wattle to you because it was common courtesy," Eucalyptus said with a sneer, "not because I intended to marry him off to you." It was customary to introduce close acquaintances to the family when older family members were around. It was a custom that Eucalyptus had never really understood (mostly because few people in the Bunnymund family _cared_ enough to keep track of the people the rest associated with), and Dill was Eucalyptus' closest family member at the Academy, and most frequently around. It was been natural to introduce Wattle to Dill in lieu of any other Bunnymund.

However, Eucalyptus had not known that he was playing matchmaker when he performed an act that was simply a part of proper conduct. No wonder Eucalyptus hated proper conduct; it always screwed him over.

"Consider the bright side; it's not like you were going to marry him, so this is the best way for you to get him as a part of the family," Dill spoke as she adjusted her grip on the preservation sphere she'd placed the plant into. It was a finely crafted instrument; the bloom had remained completely unharmed during Dill's trip back.

Regardless of the care Dill put into her proposal gesture, Eucalyptus still wasn't completely sold on the thought of his best friend marrying one of his least favorite siblings (Dill was actually more in the middle, as Laurel and Hollyhock were much more insufferable, but it wasn't like Dill was nearly as dear to Eucalyptus as Violet or Thyme). Eucalyptus scowled deeply as he stated: "You're going to be spending even _more_ time around me if Wattle accepts."

Dill shrugged. "I can think of worse things," the taller Pooka said. She smiled down at Eucalyptus. "I have to admit, you're not nearly as insufferable up close as you were from afar."

Eucalyptus grunted noncommittally. He knew what Violet would be doing at this point; she'd be throwing around accusations about Callistemon purposefully setting his grandchildren against each other. Eucalyptus knew it had more to do with having absolute control over the twins' development, with the family head simply not caring about the other repercussions.

"I mean it," Dill insisted. She held the orb in one hand to lay the other on Eucalyptus' shoulder. "You and Violet were kept pretty isolated back through all our childhoods. I didn't really even know you before we got here, and even that's mostly thanks to Wattle." Dill's face grew gentler, a rare look for her that caught Eucalyptus' attention. "I knew someone he cared about couldn't be as bad as I'd been led to believe."

Crossing his arms with a sigh, Eucalyptus confessed: "I suppose it's the same for me." He supposed he could give in just a bit. "Anyone Wattle's willing to nuzzle can't be completely rotten." Even if Eucalyptus still didn't approve of the nuzzling.

"You little brat!" Dill moved her arm to grab Eucalyptus in a headlock, pulling the smaller Pooka against her sturdy side. "And here I was going to offer to stand witness for whenever you might find someone worth your while."

"That's no big loss," was all Eucalyptus said in response, even as he began to dig an elbow into his sister's side. Eucalyptus was reasonably certain that such an event would not have occurred regardless. He wasn't exactly looking into entering a relationship, let alone making it permanent.

 

* * *

 

_Aster_

"Ugh," Ostara groaned long and loudly as she turned away from Aster's project. "That smells disgusting."

"Don't be ridiculous," Aster replied with ease as he stirred the pot on the stove. "It's _chocolate_. Nothing about chocolate can be disgusting."

"Except the smell." Ostara crossed her arms with a mulish look. "And the taste, _and_ the color."

"You're lucky Calan didn't hear you say any of that." Aster gave Ostara certain liberties when it came to badmouthing his culinary arts, mostly because she'd done so many favors for him along the centuries. The Pooka frowned as he looked up to direct his gaze to the opened hatch of the pantry. "Speaking of, what's taking him so long with those molds?"

Ostara smirked. "Maybe he found your cider stash."

Aster released a disapproving grunt. She had a point.

"Go get him, would you?" he asked as he adjusted the heat. He turned to Ostara to give her a firm look. "And perhaps keep from antagonizing him just for its own sake?"

"I make no promises," Ostara insisted immediately. "But I'll try, since you asked nicely."

To be truthful, Aster always attempted to ask nicely when it came to making requests of Ostara, or any spring spirit for that matter. Aster had been growing more comfortable with having control over the spring season during the last decades, and it gave him a measure of clout when it came to those who fell under his jurisdiction.

Apparently the highest ranking spirit of a set season could compel the others to obey their direct commands. The Egyptian deity Sopdu, who was in charge of the summer spirits, had been the one able to tell Aster about the ability. It came in handy to the sun god, as summer spirits were often associated with fire and heat and, as such, tended to be volatile.

Spring spirits, on the other hand, weren't half as rowdy, being more laid-back, even if overly chipper. Aster didn't feel comfortable being too authoritative towards them. He generally didn't like the idea of one individual forcing their will on others; he had enough experience of being on the receiving end of such a power relation, albeit without the magically-enforced obedience.

Regardless, Ostara was helpful enough that Aster didn't have to worry about asking her anything. Except when it came to Calan Gaeaf. The two spirits hadn't gotten along for as long as Aster had known them both. They were opposites in many ways and clashed every time they met. And yet the two continuously encountered each other, and not only because they were both close friends with Aster. Frankly, Aster had begun to suspect that the pair _enjoyed_ arguing.

There were some harsh sounds coming from the pantry, but no yelling yet, so the two were most likely at least trying to get along. Calan was the first one to climb out, his long, spindly limbs allowing him to scale the ladder with ease. He brandished the molds Aster had requested with a sharp-toothed grin, and also had a cider bottle tucked under one arm. So he _had_ gone looking for it.

"Forget it," Aster said sternly as he grabbed the molds, scattering them onto the tabletop so that he could pour the chocolate into them. "I'm not making alcoholic chocolates for you." If Calan wanted personal chocolates, he could have these ones, since the chocolate had most likely been left on the stove for too long.

Ostara giggled from the side and Aster shot a quick glance only to make sure she wasn't up to mischief. No mischief, unless you counted hungrily ogling Calan's prosterior as the autumn spirit swayed on his long legs.

Oh. _Oh._

So _that_ was why Ostara had joined Aster in the Warren today, despite her dislike for chocolate and chocolate making.

 

* * *

 

_Bunny_

After Bunny started recounting tales about his home planet to Jack, the winter spirit actually ended up very quickly growing on Bunny. So much so, that one day Bunny couldn’t contain his joy at having the other spirit over, and leaned over to nuzzle his chest.

Then he proceeded to goad the winter spirit into offering an opinion on a new plantation. Jack’s first suggestion was somewhere between joking and serious, but it did still merit consideration. As such, Bunny did consider the idea of a Halloween-themed arrangement seriously, even though it turned out to be impractical.

Bunny had already given the matter some serious thought, when Jack’s incredulous voice caught his attention.

“Are you actually taking me seriously?” the winter spirit asked, like it was unfathomable that Bunny would value his opinion.

“Of course, mate,” the Pooka replied matter-of-factly. “You’re over often enough for yer opinion to matter.” Bunny thought that maybe Jack just needed to _hear_ Bunny tell him that, instead of the spring spirit simply expecting the other to know it without words.

Bunny proceeded to show Jack some of the flowers he’d been considering and even though Jack had confessed to not knowing much about the different plants Bunny kept, the winter spirit was still giving the matter his full consideration. Bunny saw Jack smile over Bunny’s plants, being excited over and interested in something that meant so much to Bunny, and the Pooka felt something within himself tremble.

It wasn’t an unpleasant quake, but a strong yet gentle sensation of _noticing_ Jack in a way Bunny usually didn’t bother to notice anyone in. It was powerful, but it was also brief, before it winked out like it had never existed.

The yawning pit in Bunny’s soul swallowed the feeling whole, but Bunny was still left with the memory of the sensation, as well as the after effects. As such, even as the Pooka despaired over his loss, so deep and profound, he also felt at peace over simply getting to be near Jack.

He knew what this was supposed to be, even though he was incapable of it. He knew the curse he was under had allowed him that brief touch of feeling only so that he could realize it was taken away. You could only lose something you had experienced, after all.

Bunny knew he’d fallen in love with Jack Frost. That was why it was so painful, why it filled him with such despair, that he couldn’t love him. The feeling had sunk into the hole inside his soul right after lasting long enough that Bunny could recognize it. It left him shivering.

Hope was the one thing that allowed Bunny to keep smiling when Jack looked over to him with that eager and interested expression. He had to hold on to the hope that at least Jack would never reciprocate those feelings, that Jack would never end up stuck in this curse that still clung to Bunny’s emotions, after all these centuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, you all get to know what Bunny feels towards Jack, since it was such a mystery during _Finding Pieces of a Life_. Apparently he feels the empty abyss that is his inability to love. …well, that’s depressing.
> 
> On a lighter note, Sopdu is actually more of a solar god and a god of war, but Wikipedia also mentions him being a summer deity. The only other summer deity I could find was an Irish one, Áine, but I figured I had enough European spirits in this and decided that the verse needed a Eurafrasian one.


	6. Only Know You Love Her When You Let Her Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Well you only need the light when it's burning low  
> Only miss the sun when it starts to snow  
> Only know you love her when you let her go
> 
> Only know you've been high when you're feeling low  
> Only hate the road when you’re missin' home  
> Only know you love her when you let her go  
> And you let her go
> 
> ~ Passenger - Let Her Go  
> 

Eucalyptus woke up to only bad news. He knew the Fearling taint had left his body, he knew his own body well enough to know when it wasn't falling apart at the seams. The doctors telling him that he had made a full recovery wasn't news, albeit the fact that they'd used the Light of Creation to accomplish the feat wasn't something he could have known by himself. But, it did explain the energy thrumming away underneath his skin. Life had such a jittery feeling to it.

Death was probably the opposite of jittery. Eucalyptus imagined it as stillness, as silence and absence that never ended. The news that the Light had not been enough to restore his mother gave enough of a shock to calm down the life under his own skin.

Of course they'd tried to heal Edelweiss first. Eucalyptus knew that to others, he was just a copy, so saving of the original came first. And even if these healers didn't share the views of his grandfather and tutors, his mother was still more important to them, more important to morale and to the last remaining struggles to stay alive a while longer. How was it that, even when she'd felt the light first, Edelweiss had been the one to succumb when Eucalyptus healed? There would be no explanation from the healers, to whom the Fearling taint had been the one malady they'd known little about.

It all felt wrong. Eucalyptus had been raised to be like his mother in every way that counted. Why was he so full of life when Edelweiss was dead?

When Commander Zinnia arrived and offered him an officer's uniform, Eucalyptus had to reconsider his previous judgement. He wasn't a copy to these people who would use him; he was spare parts. He was something used to keep the cogs turning when his predecessor no longer could. Eucalyptus wondered if they'd move on to Violet once he was of no use anymore. He briefly considered Violet's willingness to let anyone use her, and almost laughed.

The surge of amusement was weak and all too fleeting. How could he find real amusement in anything, when his mother was _dead_?

"Are you well enough to shape-shift?" Zinnia asked as soon as Eucalyptus was back on his feet.

Truthfully, Eucalyptus could do more than that. The Light hadn't only healed him, it had replenished him. However, being well enough physically didn't mean that Eucalyptus wouldn't prefer to curl up under the sheets and they there. Eucalyptus also knew quite well that he couldn't do that. He couldn't be selfish now, when the world was ending.

Zinnia didn't have to tell the plan to him. Eucalyptus knew what was expected of him. Thankfully he knew his mother's shape well enough to replicate them from memory. The healers had already carted Edelweiss' body off, and Eucalyptus would prefer not to witness his mother freshly dead; he didn't want that to be his most vivid memory of her. Maybe, if he could find the time, he could visit her crystal in the crystal chamber once before the battle.

Eucalyptus wasn't given a chance to plan out more than that before Zinnia was ushering him towards the doors. Without thinking, the young Pooka grasped the weapon by his bedside and had to attach the harness on the fly. He stumbled several times before he was out the door, the new, longer body leaving him unbalanced. That could be chalked up to recovering from injuries, even though he was fit as a fiddle. No one else needed to know that, however, so Eucalyptus ignored how unsteady the body made him feel. He had to focus on stabilizing his unsteady mind first.

The places within him where the touch of the Light lingered Eucalyptus could feel encouragement, a gentleness urging him on.

 

* * *

 

He'd doubted his decision to pick up the halberd. When the primary buzz was over Eucalyptus realized that, while its heavy weight was comfortable to him, the sight of it would be strange to those who were supposed to see him as Edelweiss. By the time he'd thought to change weapons, Edelweiss' swords had been moved out of the infirmary to the armory.

Eucalyptus had been weighing the benefit of a stronger facade against a more efficient weapon when Jackfruit had found him. Jackfruit had supported him, then, seeing through the charade at Eucalyptus and insisting he do right by himself.

“I think you should go with the halberd. It suits you better than any sword,” was what Jackfruit told Eucalyptus. Eucalyptus took that advice.

Eucalyptus had been surprised by Jackfruit's unfailing support. Eucalyptus was fully aware of the older Pooka's fascination with his mother, and was surprised he wasn't affronted over Eucalyptus walking around wearing her visage.

Rather than judge Eucalyptus for the deception, Jackfruit seemed to understand the reasoning behind it, and had, perhaps unwittingly, encouraged Eucalyptus to believe that he really was doing the right thing. Eucalyptus only hoped he'd managed to encourage Jackfruit in return.

Even though Eucalyptus had a job to do - he had a war to fight and a role to play - it didn't mean that he shouldn't consider his own needs as well. Throughout Eucalyptus' life people had tried to train personal needs out of him or, rather, they'd tried to train out any _consideration_ for his own needs. But, throughout it all, there had been people who insisted that Eucalyptus had a right for personal needs and should take them into consideration. First there had been Violet, who'd violently defended Eucalyptus' right for expressing himself, and his mother, who never told him 'no'. Then there had been Nasturtium, who'd encouraged Eucalyptus to speak up. And finally, there had been Wattle, who sometimes thought of Eucalyptus before he thought of himself.

Altruism wasn't a duty, it wasn't something that marked you as some kind of chosen one meant to defend others. Altruism was a personality trait, the simple desire to assist others because you sympathized with their plight. It was common, it could be encountered everywhere, and it shouldn't be made into a burden for someone to carry.

Sometimes, personal needs aligned with helping others. This was why Eucalyptus sought out his sister Dill before the Dreadnaught Eucalyptus would come in contact with the Fearling horde. Naturally, he found her with Wattle, the two standing close together speaking in hushed tones. Eucalyptus regretted having to interrupt their way of comforting both each other and themselves, but his self-appointed task took precedence. Eucalyptus asked Dill if they could move to a different room to talk privately and the fact that Dill agreed, even if visibly reluctantly, showed that their mother's death had shaken up Eucalyptus' usually unshakeable sibling.

Eucalyptus stood beside his sister, not looking at her as he spoke: "I don't think you should stay for the battle."

Dill's entire body stiffened and Eucalyptus knew that, if this was any other one of his siblings, there would be screaming. Instead Dill's voice lowered into a threatening hiss as she asked: "What did you just say?"

"It's unfair of me to expect you to battle so soon after our mother's death." It was strange to speak of his mother while he wore her appearance, but the increased height that brought him on equal footing with his older sibling made it easy to detach himself from the situation.

Eucalyptus turned to look at Dill and saw the denial appear on her face. He frowned.

"It's enough that one of us has to do this," Eucalyptus spoke, keeping his voice even. He wondered if the fact that he sounded like their mother right now was going to aid or hinder his efforts to convince Dill to do as he said.

"You're such a brat," Dill said with scoff. Her words were harsh but the gaze of her eyes was warm. "Just who do you think you are, acting so grown up and telling your big sister what to do?"

Lifting a hand to fondle the high collar of his coat, Eucalyptus smirked at Dill. "Apparently, a general," he said pointedly, "and therefore your commanding officer."

"You really are smug in addition to being a brat." Dill crossed her arms. "I won't leave you alone."

It was strange, hearing such protective words out of Dill's mouth. Then again, wasn't it equally strange that he was now trying to convince her to abandon the battlefield because he also wanted to protect her? Eucalyptus smiled.

"I'm never alone," the younger Pooka said. He lifted a hand to tap a finger against his chest. "The Light of Creation touched within me, and I've never felt less alone." He couldn't explain the sensation more than that, or Dill would reject it. Eucalyptus couldn't tell his sister than their mother had left traces of herself in the Light when she'd died under its glow. Those traces had slipped inside Eucalyptus' own being when the Light had given him life. Most likely the feeling would fade in time, but for now it was a comfort.

"There aren't many people I can protect from my current position," Eucalyptus softly. "Even Wattle is going to be in one of the first evacuation dispatches." He looked imploringly at his sister. "I want you to go with him, and keep you both safe."

Dill sighed. "Oh, you just had to bring up Wattle." The dark Pooka scoffed. "If you didn't bring him up only now, I would be thinking you wanted me out for Wattle's sake."

Eucalyptus shrugged. "It's true that Wattle would be broken up over losing you." He relaxed his posture and offered Dill a smile. "And he wouldn't be the only one." He figured he might as well say that much, just in case.

Dill's face went through several in-between phases of expressions, as she processed the unexpectedly emotional admission. Her face smoothened out, and Eucalyptus knew she was going to agree even before she sighed and said: "Alright. You win."

 

* * *

 

There was another person Eucalyptus was determined to protect and get to safety. But, unfortunately, there was no way to get Jackfruit off the battleship when he still had a duty to carry out. Because of that, Eucalyptus had to make sure Jackfruit survived his duty.

It was actually rather easy to help Jackfruit get through the entire Dreadnaught. He hadn’t yet gotten tired once since he’d been healed by the Light of Creation. Also, in addition to the boundless energy he’d received, he was also stronger and faster. He was more of everything that he’d been before.

The increased strength also meant that Eucalyptus was fully equipped to manhandle Jackfruit into one of the escape pods when the other Pooka tried to be difficult.

Eucalyptus understood why Jackfruit was acting the way he was. His family was in danger, and he had no way of finding out if they were safe or not unless he could check on them in person. Eucalyptus understood his feelings, and Eucalyptus liked to think he understood Jackfruit himself as well. Because of that he’d been half-expecting Jackfruit to attempt to hijack a pod when he had the chance.

There was no way Jackfruit would have survived a trip back to the homeworld. Even if his family was in direct danger, it would be too late to evacuate them and get them to safety. The most Jackfruit could have done for them would have been to just delay the inevitable. The only positive outcome in that scenario was that the family would have gotten to spend their last moments together. And if Jackfruit’s family had been evacuated, Jackfruit would have been throwing his life away for nothing.

Eucalyptus didn’t regret forcing Jackfruit to do as he was told. This would be better for Jackfruit in the long run, and Eucalyptus himself could lay his worries to rest for the time being.

“You’re coming right after me, right?” Jackfruit might have voiced a question, but the tone of voice he used was more of a demand. It was nice to see him caring, even if it wouldn’t be to the degree Eucalyptus himself did.

He’d meant what he’d said about Jackfruit being his nearest and dearest, after all. He was the last one he could still save, the last one he loved and wanted to see again. In this situation, no one else mattered more.

Eucalyptus smiled, touched. “In time,” he promised even as he gripped his weapon again. “I still have unfinished business.” He was so much more powerful now, he could probably accomplish anything he wanted to at this point.

Jackfruit’s hands reached out to him, only to be stopped by the secured glass of the escape pod. The gaze of his blue eyes caught Eucalyptus better than his hands ever could have anyway.

“What are you planning?” the white Pooka asked.

“I need to do a final sweep to make sure there aren’t any stragglers, Pooka or otherwise,” Eucalyptus explained, testing his grip on his weapon. “Maybe see if I can find Pitch Black and put a real stop to this.” If he _could_ find Pitch Black, he could stop the Fearling threat here. The thought of avenging his mother also passed through his mind.

“Euca… Don’t.” It was the first time Jackfruit had ever used his nickname. It actually made Eucalyptus hesitate.

The hesitation softened his voice when he spoke: “It’s alright, Jackfruit.” The desire to assure the other had him lifting his hand and pressing it against the window of the pod, right opposite of one of Jackfruit’s own. “This is what I was born to do.” There really was nothing to worry about. He was pretty sure the Light had brought him back for this, to battle the darkness.

A rumbling sound told Eucalyptus that the pod was about to launch. He took the chance to say one last thing to Jackfruit, one last promise of reunion. The phrase fell from his mouth easily, but he wasn’t sure if it carried all the way over to Jackfruit’s ears. He would have repeated himself, but the pod was already gone then, the magitech bending time and space and hopefully taking Jackfruit far away from anything that would hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a cop-out. Still no clear answer to what Euca told Jack. It had three syllables, though. XD


	7. One Will Die Before He Gets There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  We are the reckless,  
> We are the wild youth  
> Chasing visions of our futures  
> One day we'll reveal the truth  
> That one will die before he gets there.
> 
> And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones.  
> 'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone.  
> We're setting fire to our insides for fun.  
> Collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home,  
> It was a flood that wrecked this home.
> 
> And you caused it.
> 
> ~ Daughter - Youth  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME OF THE CHARACTER DEATH. Just a heads up.

Eucalyptus didn't waste time standing around once he'd made sure that Jackfruit made it to safety. He turned his back to the launch room and started moving through the ship again, stretching senses he hadn't had before.

The remains of the Light within Eucalyptus, the parts that had touched his mother, had given him a strange new awareness. Before the battle, the sense had given him a sensation of fullness. Now, however, the sense signalled him 'hollow' and 'empty'. Eucalyptus theorized that what the sense was fixated on were other Pookas. The ship had been full of them, and now they were all gone.

Maybe the part that had transferred had been the part that was the Hope of the People. His mother had told him it was more than a title. Maybe it was a mission, with its own tools. Eucalyptus had been an emergency replacement, however, so him having even this weak tool at his disposal was a mere accident that resulted from his mother's spirit mingling with his own.

If what Eucalyptus was feeling was really other Pookas, then the battle was now over. Everyone who could be saved had been. All that was left was taking down the remaining Fearlings and hunting down their leader. He needed to prepare for a long chase, depending on how long had passed before Pitch Black had started pursuing the refugees.

There had been no sign of the Nightmare King during the attack on the dreadnaught. It might as well have been that he had focused on the destruction of the Pooka homeworld instead, which was quite possibly the only strategic target left, but it was also very much possible that Pitch Black had prioritized making sure no one could escape. This would hold especially true if Tsar Lunar and his family had managed to escape. They were the primary targets of Pitchiner's betrayal, after all.

Eucalyptus packed the most important essentials outside of any prerequisite provisions. The Light of Creation, tucked away in a secure vault for the duration of the battle, plenty of weapons to better take on any Fearlings he might come across, and a sliver of the crystal of his mother's casket.

He couldn't give her a proper burial, but he would carry a reminder of her with him, to take along to a new world, where the crystal could grow.

The dreadnaught itself would become the tomb of his people, Eucalyptus decided as he programmed the ship to morph. Of course Pookan transports weren't fixed on one shape, since the Pookas themselves weren't. He change the shape into something less like a fortress and more like a temple. Something beautiful and respectful.

Pieces of the walls and rooms started sliding past each other at a lethargic pace, and Eucalyptus observed the motions absent-mindedly as he made his way to hangar. There he picked out one of the larger ships, big enough for Eucalyptus and anything of importance he could take with him. This shape could also morph, but Eucalyptus favored the ellipsoid shape that would allow for broad manoeuvres.

 

* * *

 

Eucalyptus was on the borderlines of Empty Space when he spotted something out of place. There was a body floating in the vast space, either unconscious or dead. There was no sign of anyone else, so the stranger had either fallen behind from everyone else, or they were a trap. The Pooka considered for a moment before strapping a sword to his hip; it would be easier to grab in the occasion someone tried to get the jump on him than his heavy halberd.

The Pooka gave the stranger another once over. The being was clearly not Pooka, holding the same alien shape of Tsar Lunar's people. The strange alien also glowed. Eucalyptus guessed they might have been a Shooting Star, and the dim glow was the result of Fearling taint. The Pooka didn't hesitate before grabbing the Light Egg and leaving his ship. Saving people was what he had been bred to do.

The stranger's glow was like a dying ember. Regardless, Eucalyptus only needed to open the container for a moment, since even the few sporadic beams of light were enough to invigorate the stranger, the fire of his inner light gaining a steadier glow. While the strange, silvery being was still coming to, disoriented, Eucalyptus slid the Egg into the lose folds of his coat and placed a hand on the hilt of the sword hanging from his hip.

Just because it was second nature to him to help other people didn't mean he'd leave himself open to attack.

Grey eyes opened and immediately homed in on the golden buttons of Eucalyptus' coat. When the Pooka saw a tense set of shoulders fall lax, he realized that the bright color marked him as not one of the Fearlings, that the other had been expecting to see an enemy when he came to. This was a warrior or some sort.

Eucalyptus glanced around as saw some Trail of Thoughts roiling about at a short distance. They were slowly creeping closer, however, most likely drawn to Eucalyptus' emotional nature. Usually it was more of a hindrance than an aid, but right now he could use the completely nonbiased empaths.

"Who are you?" Eucalyptus asked, trying not to sound hostile even as he couldn't help but feel suspicious. "How did you end up here?"

The alien hesitated, luminous hair falling over to cover most of his face. He kept very still as he spoke: "My name is Nightlight. I was supposed to watch over Prince Lunar." He looked around, and Eucalyptus caught a glimpse of a lost expression. "I was hit and I can't find him anymore." The warrior patted himself down and his fingers located a crystalline blade strapped to a harness over his chest. "I think I lost my weapons."

A Trail of Thought had snuck close enough to tag onto emotions now, and it flared with the other creature's protectiveness rather than Eucalyptus' suspicion. The stranger was most likely telling the truth about being a guardian of the Lunar family. A very shy guardian in that case, Eucalyptus mused when he noticed that Nightlight still wasn't meeting his eyes.

"You're in luck. We're heading the same way," Eucalyptus spoke briskly before turning around to return to his ship. It took him a moment, but Nightlight did eventually move to follow him. Fortunately, the ship was large enough for two.

Nightlight didn't seem terribly talkative, but even silent company was better than flying through near infinity by himself. After the strange warrior had buckled himself in, Eucalyptus dug through the weapon stash and handed Nightlight a pole.

"You can use this to make a spear out of that blade of yours." Eucalyptus didn't feel terribly confident in fighting together with someone who only had a small knife for a weapon, even if said knife was quite obviously enchanted.

"Thank you." Nightlight offered Eucalyptus a shy smile as he accepted the item and got to work on upgrading his weapon.

Eucalyptus grunted as he inserted a launch sequence into the controls. Honestly, Nightlight might have been a dedicated warrior, but he certainly didn't seem to have much in the way of fortitude. Most likely the glowing warrior was a rookie. It could be that Nightlight would be more useful at just keeping Eucalyptus from getting cabin fever rather than being of any help in combat. Just as well that the Light of Creation had made him into more of a one-man army, then.

 

* * *

 

First impressions could be deceiving. Eucalyptus was proven as much when he and Nightlight finally caught up to a squadron of Fearlings. They were heavily constructed monsters, no doubt slowed down by their bulk so much that they were simply tailing after the rest of the attack force. All the better for Eucalyptus, the Pooka mused as he grabbed his halberd in order to wreak some proper damage. He turned to Nightlight, to tell the other to just wait until he was done, only to find that the glowing alien was already halfway out of the ship, his new spear held confidently in his grasp.

"I thought you were supposed to be _shy_ ," Eucalyptus grumbled as he hurried to follow after the other warrior.

Nightlight laughed. "Talk is cheap," he said with a grin before he leaped out of the ship. He really was made to do combat in the abyss of space, Eucalyptus noticed as he hurried to catch up. The other zipped around the enemies, moving swiftly even with nothing physical there to help him propel himself forward. His staff glowed brighter with each passing moment as Nightlight took swings at his opponent, the blade clearly holding inside something more potent than the light enchantments of Pookan weapons. Nightlight wielded a true light weapon, and expertly so.

The staff wasn't the only thing that was burning bright; Nightlight himself was illuminated with magic and power as he struck down his enemies, all the while laughing like this was all a game rather than a matter of life and death. Eucalyptus had compared Nightlight's light to that of a fire, before, when it had been dim like a flickering candle. Now, however, Eucalyptus saw Nightlight's glow shine bright as it crackled like lightning. It was a great difference to Eucalyptus' own light, the traces of the Light of Creation which served as a warm flame within him.

The end purpose was different. Eucalyptus' light was one meant to nurture and inspire life, while Nightlight's own was a weapon. It was strange, how such a carefree individual held weaponized light within him, while Eucalyptus himself guarded the lifelight and held nothing but worry. Maybe it was for the sake of balance. Certainly Eucalyptus couldn't get much done if he just spent his time ruminating on the meaning of the light that had stuck with him. Maybe Nightlight's own personality was to keep him from becoming nothing but the weapon.

For Eucalyptus, his light was something that fed his physical form, rather than reaching outside like Nightlight's own. Nightlight did more than attack with magic, he _was_ magic. Eucalyptus was something much more mundane, even though he had been forever altered by his contact with the mystical forces of creation. There was a difference, in origin, function and purpose.

The Fearlings fell quickly. More quickly than Eucalyptus had expected, even after he had seen just what Nightlight was capable of. He was quite impressed, went as far as to tell Nightlight as much.

"I wanted to protect the prince," Nightlight had explained simply. "I had to be good enough."

Eucalyptus had enough experience with individuals of few words to understand what Nightlight meant. To protect Prince Lunar had been his singular goal, and the Fearlings were now trying to keep him from fulfilling his goal. Of course he was going to cut them down with as much enthusiasm as Eucalyptus. They both had a duty of protection to carry through.

Eucalyptus was even more impressed with Nightlight after that revelation. The Pooka himself knew personally just what it was like to be considered a tool, to be used by others for vague purposes. It gave Eucalyptus hope to see someone as powerful as Nightlight being so free from shackles. Nightlight had _chosen_ to protect. Maybe, once this was all over, Eucalyptus also could start making his own decisions.

 

* * *

 

Even with their detours to finish off any Fearlings they encountered, Eucalyptus and Nightlight were the first to arrive at the evacuation coordinates. Of course, long distance Tunnels tended to bend time in addition to space, so that might have caused the delay despite Eucalyptus taking off after everyone else. As for the lack of Pitch Black, the Nightmare King could have simply been led off-track on his hunt for Prince Lunar.

The planet was mostly finished forming, with a solid earthen crust over the volcanic core. Most likely the crust would reshape itself over and over again as time passed, but now it had barely shaped itself into existence, lacking any form of life. Eucalyptus could see why this location had been chosen for the evacuation.

A complete blank slate, ready to be formed into anything.

The infant prince himself had been hidden away on his ship, on what stood for the planet's moon. The robots on board the ship would tend to the prince while Nightlight and Eucalyptus tried to lure Pitch Black to them. The planet itself didn't hold much of interest, but Eucalyptus had now brought the Light of Creation there, and the Nightmare King would be sure to sense its presence.

Waiting was the hardest part. There was really nothing to do and Nightlight was his only company. He'd learned to get along quite well with the other warrior, but Nightlight still preferred silence over speech. Way too often the silence and inactivity would make Eucalyptus very much aware of the sense that still hadn't faded away, the one that told him that there were no other Pookas. It was an empty, hollow feeling in Eucalyptus' chest, and it made Eucalyptus _glad_ when Nightlight finally came to tell him that he'd felt Pitch approaching.

There was uncertainty on Nightlight's face. He'd eventually told Eucalyptus that it had been Pitch who had knocked him down and left him drifting half-dead in space. Pitch's magical and physical strength were immense, amplified by the dark force he'd absorbed, and Nightlight couldn't take him in direct combat, even as his weapon was the one thing that could take Pitch out properly.

It was a good thing Eucalyptus had been altered like Pitch had been. He might not have magical powers strong enough to make the galaxy tremble, but he was physically strong enough to cleave his way through Pitch's army without tiring. As such, it made sense for Eucalyptus to be 'bait', so to speak, to face Pitch directly in single combat, hopefully distracting the Nightmare King well enough for Nightlight to finish him.

The actual bait was the Light, still tucked away inside Eucalyptus' ship. It was enough to lure the shadowy form of Pitch Black to the Pooka. Eucalyptus held his halberd in his grasp as he watched Pitch Black carefully.

Eucalyptus had never met Kozmotis Pitchiner, but he had seen images of the Golden General. The only thing connecting this creature to the Constellations' greatest champion were the facial features. Healthy skin was now an off-color of gray and a proud posture had been traded for a hunched lurking one. Pitchiner had carried himself like a warrior and a leader, Pitch carried himself like a predator. A predator that sneered at Eucalyptus with sharp teeth.

"Only one Pooka left to defend the Light?" the Nightmare King spoke in a soft tone, like a slowly creeping nightmare. "I knew your kind had it, but I didn't expect you lot to be so far along to being finished." He grinned. "All the better, and all the fitting that I would strike the last of you down here, so close to the finish line."

"You'll have to do it by yourself," Eucalyptus snapped back, bringing his halberd to his side, ready to attack or defend. "I took care of every single one of your Fearlings on the way over." He mirrored the Nightmare King's expression. "It's me who's going to be finishing the job, not you."

"We'll see," Pitch hummed and swung a broadsword at Eucalyptus' head. The blow was easily knocked aside with Eucalyptus' trusty halberd, most likely the other was simply testing out Eucalyptus' skill and strength.

Eucalyptus would prefer to skip the pleasantries, and showed as much as he thrust forward with the sharp tip of his weapon, aiming for the Nightmare King's stomach. Pitch Black slid backwards with great speed, but Eucalyptus followed right after, only a step behind.

Pitch's dim eyes shone. "You are no regular Pooka," the Nightmare King spoke as he sidestepped out of the path of Eucalyptus' attack, bringing his sword in front of himself to better defend. "You're stronger and faster than any other I've encountered. What are you?"

Eucalyptus was the one who'd put an end to this. There were no Fearlings left in the universe thanks to the work he and Nightlight had done. Soon enough there would be no Pitch Black either, and the Light of Creation would bring the new Golden Age to this barren wasteland of a world.

The Pooka didn't say any of this, focusing fully on trading blows with the monster who'd destroyed everything he'd known and cared about. His only hope was that he hadn't killed everyone, that there were still people left untouched by his cruelty and that there would be _new_ people who'd never have to know this darkness.

"The strong silent type doesn't suit you!" Pitch snarled as he parried another one of Eucalyptus' attempts to injure him. "I can see how torn you are, and I can sense the fear in you!" Pitch struck forward, hard to do with such a heavy blade if not for his monstrous strength. "You're afraid of what I might have done, that maybe you really _are_ the last."

"That doesn't matter," Eucalyptus spoke, even as he was growing frustrated with how evenly matched he and Pitch Black were. "I'll do my job, you won't get in my head." Speaking of his job, this fight was going nowhere, and Eucalyptus could already spot Nightlight lurking impatiently along the sidelines. Their best shot at taking down Pitch would be for him to not see Nightlight coming. That meant that he needed the Nightmare King’s full attention.

He met Nightlight’s eyes momentarily, a signal to watch for his chance. At the same time, he made an exaggerated, broad swing with his halberd that Pitch had to leap to avoid. The Nightmare King undoubtedly thought he was distracted from the sloppy swing and wandering eyes, and took his chance to thrust forward with his blade.

The sword sunk through the middle of Eucalyptus’ chest, and Pitch had only the briefest moments to smirk victoriously before Eucalyptus grasped his arm, holding him in place.

A shining, shimmering blade came out through Pitch’s chest, Nightlight having run the Nightmare King through. The silvery warrior’s eyes looked into Eucalyptus’ own over Pitch’s shoulder as a dull roar surrounded the trio, moments before Pitch’s body morphed into a mess of shadows, trapped motionless by the power of Nightlight’s blade.

The sword that had been embedded in Eucalyptus’ chest faded away, and the Pooka fell to the ground. Nightlight was there seconds later, pulling the larger body towards himself, peering down at Eucalyptus’ face with horror.

“Eucalyptus,” Nightlight muttered, voice shaky and breathless. “H-hang in there.”

Eucalyptus breathed a laugh. He fought the pull of the abyss a while longer, lifting a hand to brush the backs of his fingers under a suspiciously shimmering eye. “It’s okay,” he murmured in a low tone, wanting to stave off his friend’s tears. “I’m fine with this.” Pitch had done a lot of damage; his heart had most likely been crushed and it would be stuttering to a halt soon. He couldn’t shift this much damage away.

“We just won,” Nightlight argued insistently, hand gripping Eucalyptus tighter. “You can’t leave now, when we’re just starting over.”

How was he supposed to explain that he’d already died once before, that the Light of Creation had kept him alive to fulfil this one last purpose? There was a reason to all of this, the fighting, the losses, even his own death now.

“This new world will be good,” Eucalyptus assured Nightlight. “Just bury the Light into the ground, as deep as you can, and it’ll happen.” His hand felt heavy and he lowered it over the cavern that his chest had become. “As for me…” He smiled up at Nightlight, wanting the other to see his peace, wanting _that_ to be what he was remembered by. “I did enough.”

Eucalyptus’ fingers twitched. His heart had stopped beating. His last breath didn’t escape his lips before he was already dead.


	8. What Doesn't Kill You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  What doesn't kill you makes you wish you were dead.  
> Got a hole in my soul, growing deeper and deeper.  
> And I can't take one more moment of this silence.  
> The loneliness is haunting me.  
> And the weight of the world's getting harder to hold up.
> 
> ~ Bring Me the Horizon - Drown  
> 

Nightlight was, honestly, panicking. Eucalyptus, his only friend in the new, empty universe he'd woken up in was dead, or very close to it. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He couldn't even begin to fathom was he was _going_ to do, without Eucalyptus. There was still the infant prince to consider, the one he'd sworn to protect, but he'd also promised to himself that he'd keep his new friend safe. He'd failed at protecting Eucalyptus, who's to say he wouldn't fail his prince as well?

The only positive thing in the situation was that Pitch was either dead or in a state that was similar enough to death that Pitch wouldn't hurt anyone anymore. Eucalyptus had finished his mission before passing on, he'd said so himself, although Nightlight couldn't help wistfully thinking on the person Eucalyptus had travelled this far to meet. He'd never fulfilled that promise.

Was that what was supposed to be Nightlight's next task, to distract himself from the loneliness that would surely seep in now that the great battle against the Nightmare King was over? Was Nightlight supposed to find the person Eucalyptus had travelled here to meet, to tell them of what had become of Eucalyptus?

He was going to have to bury Eucalyptus, wasn't he? The Pooka left behind their bodies when they passed. They didn't blink out of existence like Nightlight's people, nor did they break apart and scatter themselves around as cosmic dust like Shooting Stars did. Naturally, Nightlight didn't know much about 'disposing' of bodies; even though he knew a great deal of the Pookan kind, funeral rites had never been a common topic for conversations during the Golden Age.

Eucalyptus had brought on some artefacts; he'd told Nightlight so. Maybe there would be records of, if not how his body should be dealt with, but of who he had wanted to meet and who Nightlight should wait for to share the news. He'd really like to create a monument of some sort. Eucalyptus had been a warrior and a hero; he should have something like that, at least.

Nightlight released his hold on Eucalyptus and turned to go to their spaceship. He didn't make it far, however, as there was suddenly a tall woman standing right in front of him, blocking his path.

She had long, dark hair that reached almost the ground, swirling around her like there was no gravity. She also had pale skin and a narrow face that were faintly familiar, like Nightlight had seen her features on a different face before. Her eyes were pale and the color of lightning, seeming to flash and glow like they were electric as well. Everything about her told of immense magical power, so Nightlight was instantly on guard, observing her carefully.

"There is no need to look so startled," the woman spoke. "I was here even before any of you."

Nightlight's first instinct was to run away from this strange being. She spoke of strange things, looked strange, and Nightlight had no idea what she could and would do. However, Eucalyptus' body was lying on the ground right behind him, and he'd never abandon it to this unnerving person.

The woman bended over. Even that wasn't enough to completely overcome the height difference between them. Still, it made her seem more approachable than the rigid posture from before.

"Your friend isn't gone yet," the woman said, crossing her arms. "I can sense the presence of the Light of Creation. It can save him. Where is it?"

The promise of Eucalyptus recovering had Nightlight answering before he could properly consider it: "It's on board the ship."

With a hum, the woman pulled herself straight and turned. She seemed to stand still for a moment, but suddenly there was an egg-shaped container in her grasp. She lifted it up to eye-lever and looked at it critically before muttering: "Pookas and their eggs."

"H-how did you do that?" Nightlight asked incredulously. The woman looked over at him and he instantly clamped his mouth shut.

The woman didn't look mad; her expression was unreadable. She studied Nightlight before she replied: "I told you I've been here a long time. I was here when this planet was little more than a fiery ball that became the core. I became one with this world. I am the Mother and I am the closest to omnipresent." The woman's eyes blazed like her core was fire as well under the surface. "I knew where it was, so I could have it."

Nightlight couldn't stand looking into those eyes for long and glanced down. "So," he murmured, voice weak. "How are you going to help Eucalyptus?"

"The Light is Life," the Mother answered and moved closer to Eucalyptus. Her body moved smoothly like a slow wave, and Nightlight suspect that the only reason she bothered moving in any kind of perceptible manner instead of simply _being_ by Eucalyptus because the other example of the skill had startled Nightlight so much.

The Mother knelt on the ground and opened the container containing the Light. Nightlight hadn't really seen the Light, since he'd only heard after the fact that Eucalyptus had used it to restore him when they first met. It was something beyond simple sight. Its light spread too far for it to not be blinding, but in the Mother's grasp it was a soft, gentle glow. It was steady and warm, but also looked strangely vulnerable.

The Mother grabbed the Light out of its container, and moved it into the crevice of Eucalyptus' chest. The Light started to hum softly, and Eucalyptus started to breathe. The sound was wet and clogged, and Nightlight hesitated. While he wanted to see Eucalyptus alive again, he wasn't sure if it wouldn't be too painful to his friend.

"Will this hurt him?" Nightlight asked the Mother hesitantly, hovering over her shoulder and looking down at Eucalyptus' face. He didn't think he'd stand looking at the Pooka's wound.

"Life always hurts," the Mother replied coldly, placing a hand over Eucalyptus' chest, hiding the Light and wound from sight. The glow of the Light seeped out from under her fingers, shining bright until Eucalyptus' eyes finally opened.

The Pooka gasped, glaring up at the Mother, instantly realizing who was responsible for him still drawing breath. "What did you do to me?"

"I need you to answer a question," the Mother said in place of an actual answer.

Somehow, for a recently deceased, Eucalyptus was still capable of a very fierce glare, which he directed at the Mother in full force. His voice, however, didn't have half as much strength even as his words were biting when he spoke: "Make it fast. I have things to do. Like dying."

"Are you the Hope of the People?" the Mother asked in a low voice. "Are you an authority the Pookan people would respond to?"

"What does it matter?" Eucalyptus murmured, clearly too exhausted to care about the Mother's demands. "There probably are no Pookas left. Pitch took care of _that_." The Pooka's eyes began to slid shut but the Mother's expression turned pinched and the Light glowed brighter in her grasp. Eucalyptus hissed as his eyes snapped open so that he could properly glare up at the woman.

The Mother didn't care about Eucalyptus' ire, merely repeating: "Are you the Hope of the People. Answer me."

Eucalyptus sighed, the sound drawn out and thin. Nightlight instantly felt sorry for his friend; it wasn't right to torture him like this, to keep him hanging on by a thread just to satisfy whatever needs the Mother had.

"Yes," Eucalyptus finally managed to breathe out. "The closest thing...yes."

"Good." The Mother's expression relaxed, but it didn't gain any kindness from it. She looked self-satisfied and smug. "Then you can tell me what the state of the alliance between the Pookas and House Lunanoff."

Eucalyptus scowled. "What are you even-"

"Do the Pookas still stand as allies of the House Lunanoff?" the Mother asked before Eucalyptus could voice his own question.

It seemed that Eucalyptus had decided that it wasn't worth it to _not_ give her an answer, since he began to speak right away, even as it was obvious that it was taxing for him to even draw breath. The Pooka's voice was barely audible as he spoke: "Sure. The Pookas of the new world, if they ever get here, will be allies of Lunanoff, like always." He glared at the Mother. "Is that enough?"

"Yes," the Mother replied tonelessly. "It's quite enough."

"Good," Eucalyptus mumbled as his eyes closed and his breathing quieted down.

Nightlight leaned even further down, feeling a surge of worry. "Is he fine?"

"He's still fatally injured," the Mother replied as she removed her hand from Eucalyptus' chest, leaving the light glowing inside him. The glow seemed to almost form a layer of light over the wound, sealing it over. "Usually he'd need time to recover properly, but I can lend him my strength for the time being." The Mother stood up with those words, and the ground swallowed Eucalyptus like it was exceptionally fast-working quicksand.

"Wait!" Nightlight started to dash at the spot where Eucalyptus vanished, but the Mother stopped him with a surprisingly strong hand. "What did you do?"

"Give it a moment," the Mother said, tone still not changing. "This is an important part of healing."

Nightlight crossed his arms and stared intently at the soil. Some moments later the earth's surface started breaking apart.

Nightlight was starting to have second thoughts about this all. Who knew if the Eucalyptus who dug himself out was Eucalyptus at all.

 

* * *

 

He hurt. Eucalyptus didn't think anything had hurt this much, not even the Fearling poisoning. There was only one explanation.

He was still alive.

It was most likely the fault of that strange sorceress type that he still wasn't really sure he'd seen. He had been in his death throes; it was very possible he might have hallucinated her.

Regardless, Eucalyptus was in a very rotten mood when he used his legs to break to the surface so that he could push the rest of the earth off himself. He came face to face with Nightlight, who looked almost afraid even as he grasped Eucalyptus' arms to help him up.

"The Mother brought you back with the Light of Creation," Nightlight spoke quickly, voice so low Eucalyptus might not have heard him without his sharp hearing. "It's inside you." The moonlit warrior looked him up and down. "And it's probably why you look different. Do you feel different?" His pale eyes shone with worry as they met Eucalyptus' own.

Eucalyptus sighed. "I feel sore and angry, but otherwise I don't think there's much different." If 'sore' meant 'in unspeakable pain' and 'angry' meant 'seething with rage', but Eucalyptus had been trained to deal with such things. He directed his attention to the Mother, the sorceress he'd thought he'd imagined. "And what's your role?"

"I was the first here," the Mother answered evenly. "And you are the second. You will help me begin the new Golden Age on this world."

"I was _dead_ ," Eucalyptus growled. "I was _happy_ to be dead. What right do you have to change that?"

"I have every right." The woman's eyes were live lighting. "You are now one with life itself, and you will become a building block for this new world, much like myself and Pitch Black." The Mother gestured her hand towards the frozen darkness, resembling a gnarled tree in appearance.

Eucalyptus scowled at Pitch Black's prison. "So he's still alive in there?"

"He has a part to play, much like you," the Mother said with conviction. "You will not die, unless you'd want this world to die with you."

Eucalyptus glared at the woman, not particularly taken in by her heavy-handed tacticts. "If that's the case, then I'll definitely have my revenge before I go on with my life," he snarled as he walked over to the frozen shape of Pitch, only for the Mother to warp in front of him.

"No," the force of nature spoke in a voice that rumbled like thunder. "Pitch Black is a monster, but one whose life still has value."

"I don't want his life," Eucalyptus snapped, the earth around them beginning to rumble as he tested the reach of his new affinity. New powers with every death, it seemed. He focused on the Mother again and said: "I will merely bury him so deep that his shadow will never fall on anyone ever again." He pushed back the tall shape and walked the rest of the way to Pitch's unrecognizable form. "That much is my right."

Eucalyptus focused, and the earth answered. The soil and rock rose up and opened, swallowing the twisted, frozen shape of shadows, and sunk deep into the planet's crust. The ground left behind looked turned over, sloppy, but it would smooth itself over in time.

"There," Eucalyptus said as he turned to the Mother. "I take it that much was acceptable at least?" The question was sneered, as Eucalyptus really didn't care what she thought. Pitch deserved this. He deserved worse, but the ethereal woman would most likely put a stop to any further harm.

"I think it's fitting," Nightlight spoke up, although he carefully avoided looking at the Mother. "Let his prison be as dark as the one he opened."

"I will not judge you for your vengeance," the Mother finally spoke, eyes blazing with just her power and no emotion. "I am no stranger to it myself."

"Then we're agreed," Eucalyptus spoke solemnly. "Pitch Black will never walk in daylight again." So it was decreed.

Eucalyptus considered his power of earth, frowning in displeasure. Finally, he spoke out: "I'm not sure I like this new power I have. It seems too vast."

"You can give it back if you wish," the Mother said, her voice gentler than at any point before. "This gift is completely returnable."

"Okay." Eucalyptus didn't even have to consider it. He offered his hands towards the Mother. "How does this go?"

"It's not my power," the Mother spoke, making no move to take Eucalyptus' hands. "It's the power of the earth we stand on, to move on its own, under its own will."

"Then the earth will move as it pleases once more, like I never came," Eucalyptus said with conviction. He was starting to understand the magic they were using here. It was magic of Creation, setting up the stage for the Everything that would come after them. Eucalyptus would rather have nothing to do with that kind of magic and he'd relinquish as much of it as he could once he was done helping the Mother.

The Mother didn't act like a mortal. Who knew how long she'd been waiting here for when she could begin her new Golden Age. The longer the travelled distance, the more time tended to bend. There was no way to tell when she'd left for this place and when she'd arrived. But, she was different from Eucalyptus or even Nightlight. She could have all this potent magic. She was made for it. Eucalyptus would only give the starting push, and then he'd rest.

He felt like he could sleep an aeon or two.


	9. Where Time Dissolves the Brightest Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Where angels fall and darkness reigns  
> Where time dissolves the brightest flame  
> (ever the same)
> 
> Whether I'm the last one alive  
> Or ascend before my time  
> Better I'm the last one alive  
> Than a soul denied
> 
> ~ Demon Hunter - Last One Alive  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for more character death! This time it's self-inflicted.

Eucalyptus couldn't resist the pull of sleep for long. He'd told the Mother than he needed to rest and the Mother had said she'd allow it, like she was in any position of authority to allow the Pooka anything. Eucalyptus ignored the nagging feeling that she _did_ , in fact, have authority.

Even though Eucalyptus had willed his power over the shifting of earth away, at least for now he could still command the elements of earth to move to a limited degree. With this ability Eucalyptus created a safe underground cavern where he could store his spaceship. He dug even further after that, until he felt that he had gone as far as he would dare. That was where he took the crystal that he'd saved from his mother's final resting place. Lying down on the turned ground, Eucalyptus laid the crystal over his body and closed his eyes.

The crystals had been used to house injured and healing Pookas before the hibernation technology had been developed. On this world, far away from anything familiar, especially advanced Pookan technology, Eucalyptus would rely on the chrysalis hibernation to mend his battle scars.

He felt the crystal begin to grow around him, but he fell asleep before it could entirely cover him. It was to be expected, since the chrysalis had never been meant to hold aware Pookas. He'd start to shift out of the cocoon once he had healed enough. Even in hibernation, Pookas tended to shift in their sleep, so the crystal would know there was something alive inside it in time and it would decrease its density to expel Eucalyptus once he was healed enough to enter more regular sleep.

When Eucalyptus woke up from his deep sleep, he was disappointed. Dead Pookas, since they didn't move, could stay within the crystal indefinitely. Eucalyptus had hoped, to a degree, that he'd enter a sleep deep enough to not waken from.

Eucalyptus didn't muse on the thought for long. It wasn't like him to be still for long periods of time, especially since he wasn't sleeping anymore. There was nothing else to do but get constructive. And so Eucalyptus got to work on creating a proper place to _live_ instead of just sleep.

Cavern Pookas had developed several tools for digging warrens along the generations, both mundane and magical ones. Eucalyptus' father had been a Cavern Pooka and, while he hadn't been an architect, he had been a cultural journalist and, as such, had studied several aspects of his culture, including the ancient art of warren-making. Oak had also been a poet on his spare time, using his knowledge of architecture to create poetic passages about the process and its steps.

Oak had always been highly passionate about things that caught his interest, which came in handy when Eucalyptus was the only Pooka left to build the first warren on the new planet. He wanted to have it prepared for when the rest of the Pooka got there.

Really, there wasn't much else to do with what the Mother had done to him. Immortality abhorred idleness. Being productive certainly beat simply waiting or sleeping.

Even though he wished to work, Eucalyptus spent most of his time sleeping. It was hard to find the strength to keep working on such a large project all by himself, especially since he was still recovering from his brief stint as one of the deceased. He slept beneath the surface of the warren cavern, and the cavern itself grew around his sleeping form, reacting to Eucalyptus' presence in a way that had the Pooka suspecting that the Mother had done more than simply force life back into his fading body by planting the Light inside him, that she'd made him one with the earth in some shape or form.

In time the cavern was large enough to fit a village inside it. Back on the home planet, Pookas had lived both above and under the planet's surface, but the Pookas had rarely had entire villages settled inside a cavern. The Bunnymund Warren had been immensely large, big enough to fit the entire clan, and Eucalyptus decided, perhaps due to a form of home sickness, that he might as well make this warren similar to that one.

And so Eucalyptus dug. He dug and shaped the earth and he collected ores to use in buildings. Finally, the cavern was full of things that had been commonplace in Pooka villages. Round houses with their round doors, tunnels serving as shortcuts to those who were on errands, large empty fields to be used for growing things. Eucalyptus knew no Pooka would ever be at home here unless there was life growing all around. The entire creation would be topped with an underground river that would be the heart of all life in the village.

Eucalyptus directed all of his anger and frustration into his building project, the warren becoming a life as powerful as his own was. Eucalyptus worked in intense spurts, building up houses of various sizes, from personal housings to full family homes. It was once the practicalities were in place that Eucalyptus would direct his attention to carving some proper Pookan village markers, statues and whatnot. Eucalyptus had never carved a single thing in his life, but he'd have time to teach himself.

Eucalyptus slept between bursts of activity. He never kept track of the time he spent asleep (perhaps he knew, even then, subconsciously). There was no hurry in his work after the living spaces were prepared; the rest of it could be filled in at any point, maybe even with input from the other Pookas who'd be living there.

The lone Pooka finally came to the realization after he had finished placing all the statues, carved in the likeness of ancient Pookan guardians, in the places of the villages dictated by old traditions. Eucalyptus returned to the ship he had used to arrive on this planet. By now it was more of a wreckage of a pod than anything actually usable, since Eucalyptus himself had cannibalized it for parts, but still, if nothing else, at least the most basic functions of the navigation computer were still functional.

Eucalyptus had been on this planet for a long time. Eucalyptus studied the data the ship gave him and saw that he'd been on the planet for as long as it would have taken to travel between this planet and the Pooka homeworld, twice, and without space-bending tunnels. The information forced Eucalyptus to face the possibility he'd avoided thinking about to the best of his abilities.

No Pooka would be coming after him. The instinct of the Hope of the People was still a hollow silence in the back of his mind, and it would never sense another Pooka. There would never be another person in this hollow village to ask which colors the plants he grew should be. The empty houses would never be inhabited. The central river would never be the center of _any_ life. The home he'd built for his people was nothing more than a shrine to the _dead_.

Eucalyptus flung himself into the great river, and drowned.

That was how Eucalyptus discovered what the Mother had meant when she'd told him he wouldn't die. He had guessed that she'd made him effectively immortal. When his dead (supposed to be dead) body broke the surface of the river, his lungs started taking greedy, wet breaths without any input from Eucalyptus himself. His body forced itself to stay alive when Eucalyptus had wanted to just _stop_. For a moment he thought he had managed to stop.

There were hands pulling him to the shore. They were small but strong, belonging to a lithe warrior whom the Pooka knew well. Nightlight hauled Eucalyptus out of the river, sopping clothes and all, and threw him down on the riverbank. A moment later the glowing warrior crashed down on the ground as well, breathing harshly from both the exhaustion and shock.

Eucalyptus should have considered that when he acted on his impulse. Nightlight always showed up eventually whenever Eucalyptus had one of his awake episodes. Briefly, the Pooka wondered why _he_ wasn't going mad from the eternities that were passing, but figured it was because Nightlight couldn't _feel_ absence the way Eucalyptus did. Even after all the time that had passed since his resurrection, he was only now learning what his new nature was.

He could die, Eucalyptus realized, but he wouldn't _stay_ dead. But every time he came back, he'd come back different. He'd hoped for that, when he'd recalled how the touch of the Light had left the fur on his chest bleached and his colors washed out. This time he came back without the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. He'd finally stopped being the Hope of the People. It scared him to admit, but he probably would have kept killing himself until he accomplished that goal. At least it only took one try.

He was reeling from that discovery, so it took a moment for him to realize that Nightlight was shouting.

"-have half the mind to throw you back in there!"

Eucalyptus had missed most of what his friend was yelling, but he caught the gist of it. He looked up at Nightlight's angry face and smiled.

"I've never heard you raise your voice like that before," the Pooka commented. Nightlight was always so soft-spoken, even when he was upset or angry. Eucalyptus should probably be worried about being on the receiving end of that anger, but he was simply too glad to finally be free of his burden.

"Do you even know what you were _doing_?" Nightlight snapped heatedly.

"I was making it up as I went along," Eucalyptus confessed, even though drowning left his voice croaky. "Really, I just wanted some peace."

"Peace?" Nightlight repeated incredulously.

"Yeah, well," Eucalyptus murmured bitterly. "I was done waiting for something that would never happen." It was time he accepted the state of things. "I'm the last of the Pookas."

Nightlight sighed and stood up. "Don't move," he told the Pooka sternly. "I'm going to walk a bit, so that I really won't throw you back into the water." He huffed. "Even though I think you might _enjoy_ that."

The Pooka had half a mind to correct the other. He'd just wanted that instinct gone from the back of his mind. However, he decided it wasn't worth it. Dying, it seemed, always left him tired to his bones.

Eucalyptus was sitting on the river shore, hunched in on himself and shivering, when the clear water started to change before his eyes. The light that was in place of Eucalyptus' heart glowed, and the river resonated and the clear water started to swirl with a world of colors. A river of color.

The colors weren't much, rather dull and dark, but they did remind Eucalyptus of his mother (it wasn't a wonder, many things did in those days, when the grief was still fresh). Edelweiss Bunnymund had never believed in abandoning one's responsibilities. She'd been retired, retired with a family, and yet, when the Fearlings attacked, she'd gone to head the assault against them. She'd been fearless.

Maybe Eucalyptus had a duty then, as well. He had to stop distracting himself and letting the world pass by without ever interacting with it. Maybe he should venture outside of his warren for once, and see what the Mother had made of the world. It would have to wait a while longer, however. There was no one else who could do this, there was no one Eucalyptus would even trust it to.

He'd called this place a shrine to the dead. It wasn't much of one. It would need a caretaker to make sure it was worthy of the Pookan kind. Eucalyptus looked around the barren fields and thought it should have grass at the very least.

The ground turned green. Eucalyptus blinked in surprise, never having realized that his connection to this area went so deep. The light in his chest felt warm.

"What was that?" Nightlight's voice queried, the startled warrior jogging over and looking around them in wonder. "Grass suddenly started growing."

"Apparently I still have some of that power the Mother claimed was rightfully mine," Eucalyptus said as he remembered. "You know, the person I was supposed to find could make things grow as well." He looked over to Nightlight, who was watching him with rapt attention. "I always admired that about him."

"So, what's this to you, then?" Nightlight asked as he hugged himself. "This reminder?"

"It's good," Eucalyptus admitted, feeling a lightness in his chest. "I like having something of his, since it seems I'll never be able to keep my promise to him." Even as Eucalyptus' thoughts brushed that sad thought, an idea began to form in his mind. "Maybe it's just plants in general, or then it's just this place that's so in tune with me."

Eucalyptus might have smiled. If he did, it wasn't a joyful smile, but a determined one. He would create beautiful things here, every object dedicated to everything that was 'Pooka'. But he would start from what was most important.

The river resisted him. It wanted to stay morose to fit the grief fresh in his soul. But Eucalyptus decided that this river _would_ be the life in this warren, like rivers were always meant to be. And then, slowly, the colors lightened, brightened, grew more numerous, and finally the ending result was an ever-shifting beauty at the level of an innocent daydream.

Nightlight gasped out in wonder at the sight. A bright giggle followed. Eucalyptus' own spirit lightened at the sound. It was good to hear a friend laugh after the morose silence of the warren that had led to him jumping in the river in the first place.

No one ever said that he had to only consult Pookas on opinions on the warren's look. Surely, if Nightlight so enjoyed his new magic, his friend would be willing to share any ideas.

Eucalyptus decided that he would create a flower for every color the river showed him. He would fill his warren with beauty beyond compare. The warren might never be inhabited by Pooka, but it would still be filled to the bursting with life.

Because that was what the light in Eucalyptus' chest was. And that was what Eucalyptus himself was, he realized when he next saw his reflection and saw that the crest of the Light of Creation had branded itself onto his forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the latest addition (Chapter 6) of 'You Will Find It In Me' Nightlight is extremely worried about Bunny's mental state. Here is the reason. Bunny has literally killed himself. Maybe it wasn't just for the sake of trying to die, but that's what it looked like to Nightlight.


	10. I Took a Walk Around the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  I took a walk around the world  
> To ease my troubled mind  
> I left my body lying somewhere  
> In the sands of time  
> But I watched the world float  
> To the dark side of the moon
> 
> I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah
> 
> ~ 3 Doors Down - Kryptonite  
> 

Sometimes, when Eucalyptus slept, he saw the strangest visions in his dreams. They were like his dreams, and yet they were like they came from an outside source. The dreams acted like glimpses at something that wasn't truly his, but which he shared something of a connection with. The dreams also seemed disconnected from time, acting as visions of the future at the same time they were memories of things past and manifestations of current events.

In Eucalyptus' dreams, a river spoke to him. Except that the river wasn't truly a river, but a snake. The snake knew more of the world than Eucalyptus ever could, as he'd closed himself off from the world. The snake told him of his people, and how he'd made rivers for them to sustain their life, much like Eucalyptus' Warren held a river as the source of all life in it. Due to the timeless nature of the "snake-dreams", Eucalyptus wondered if perhaps the creation of his color-river had been influenced by his dreams of the snake, even though he could only remember having such a dream afterwards.

The snake had numerous names and voices, and in those voices they told Eucalyptus that there were other like the snake, beings that existed, had existed and would exist all at once. They all existed for their people and from their people, beings that were not exactly like them in the shape their existence took, but who were nonetheless their purpose for existing.

Eucalyptus had started working on a new project for the Warren. He'd started carving stone, first crudely and then more finely as he recalled what he'd learned of carving when building up the Warren. He made oval watchmen of stone, similar in appearance to the statues of guardian spirits he'd already made before, based off the ones he'd seen in his childhood home.

There was still magic inside Eucalyptus. He didn't think he'd ever be fully rid of it, and it thrummed with power inside the Warren, the place shaped out by that same magic. Everything in the cavern was imbued with the magics of earth and stone. Eucalyptus directed the magic that was inside the stone, and the stone sentinels started to move.

They were rudimentary guardians, capable of simple instructions of watch over and protect. They couldn't really make judgement calls, as stone didn't tend to think. It hadn't done so on the Pookan homeworld, and it didn't do so on this planet. Still, Eucalyptus had taken this into consideration and had decided that they would still suit his purpose for them well enough.

If Eucalyptus was going to leave the Warren to take a peek at what lay outside of it, he was going to need something to protect his safe haven. The planet already had thinking life forms on it, certainly capable of simple curiosity and possibly even malice. Regardless of the motivation behind it, Eucalyptus didn't want anyone wandering in and discovering his Warren while he was away.

The place was tied to him. As such, it was at its most secure when Eucalyptus was inside it. Once he left, he couldn't be sure that the construct itself could keep intruders out.

The sentinels would kick out anything indiscriminately while Eucalyptus was away. Except perhaps for Nightlight, since Eucalyptus' magic could probably recognize an old friend. They should have the ability to recognize something familiar, but Eucalyptus hadn't tested them, and so he wasn't sure if they could recognize people familiar to Eucalyptus or if they needed to be introduced to them first in person.

Despite having some misgiving, Eucalyptus was determined to see the world he had been missing out on. Because of that, once the sentinels were finished, Eucalyptus left them to watch over the Warren, while he took a tunnel to the surface.

Eucalyptus had been thinking things over while he worked. His last death had altered him profoundly. He was physically a very different person from before, but he had also been altered magically. The Warren had been attuned to him before, when he'd slept in its bowels for so long, but now he'd _died_ in it, and the Warren had become an extension of himself. It was similar to when he'd first died; the Mother had buried him in the earth, and he'd risen with a profound connection to all earth.

He'd changed so much, but it had been caused by a renewal of his life. There was nothing in a physical phenomenon itself that would cause him to change mentally. Only if the events surrounding the event were traumatic would it have an effect on his mental state. Eucalyptus came to the conclusion that it was about time he stopped just waiting for change to happen or for some epiphany to occur.

When the Pooka finally emerged from the Warren to the world above, he was calling himself Aster. As far as he saw it, if he really did want to change he should take the initiative. He'd gone as far as renaming himself after the Light that had caused his other changes and which had branded his forehead with its symbol. He had yet to tell Nightlight of the change, but Nightlight would get on board soon enough when they'd converse again. Nightlight had always been more about what a person was made of than what they called themselves, after all.

Aster found that the world created on the surface of the planet was strange, and yet somehow familiar. The most prominent sentient beings on the planet were similar in appearance to the constellations, or Nightlight, or Pitchiner. They had faces that could vary between thick hair and no hair at all, they were on the shorter side, and they had small ears that wouldn't be able to pick out half the things a Pooka's did.

The surface was highly varied, however. Some areas were lush with life while others were barren. And yet, despite of these environmental hardships, life persisted. The humanity of this planer could survive in extremely heated conditions, could even _thrive_ in them.

Despite their tenacity and brilliance, however, they were weak. Not in a way that mattered in the long run. They could have great mental fortitude, although the amount varied between individuals, and they could also train their bodies' strength up. However, they could never reach the level of Aster's people, or Fearlings.

The thought that some monster, if it was close enough to a Fearling, could destroy these fragile lives had Aster feeling shaky. Would he ever dare get close to these creatures, whose very existence was far more fragile than that of the Pookas? The Pookas were gone, who was to say that even humanity as a whole could survive for as long as Aster himself would live? The Mother had most likely influenced the humans' appearance, but she hadn't made them half as durable or long-lived as the people of the Golden Age.

Aster tried to find the spirits he'd encountered in his dreams. There was no sign of them in anything physical, in anything of the realm that belonged to humanity. Despite this absence, however, the humans knew of them and told stories of them and what they could do. Their existences were separated, yet intertwined.

That was Aster's first encounter with the power of belief. As such, he could never consider it a negative thing, even with the downsides of an existence where form and power was determined by faith. After that encounter, Aster would forever see the connection of belief between humans and spirits as something beautiful.

While he was travelling, Aster met the Man in the Moon. Of course, Aster knew from Nightlight that the being had originally been the son of the last Lunanoff to rule the Golden Age, but, as he himself had chosen to shed his previous identity like ill-fitting clothing, he was inclined to respect the other's name change as well.

"Mind if I join you?" the Man in the Moon asked, voice soft like something just barely on this side of a dream. Actually, the man himself appeared only barely there, like if Aster tried to touch him, his hand would touch nothing.

Aster inclined his head. "Be my guest," he said as he begun to lead the way through the bush.

The two travelled in silence for a ways, the Man in the Moon floating around eye-level with Aster and passing through trees like a spectre, without even a leaf being disturbed. Aster supposed it was easy to share space with plant life if you were practically made of space. The moon high above the pair was large and full.

"I was surprised to see you out and about," the Man in the Moon spoke after a while. "Nightlight seemed convinced you'd never come out of your burrow."

"The fact that Nightlight could make an assumption like that is why I needed to come outside," Aster admitted. "I was in a state where I would never improve just staying in place and going through the motions. It wasn't real living." He gestured a hand to the wild nature around them. "So, here I am."

"You think to learn about living from plants?" the Man in the Moon asked. The words would have been sarcastic coming from someone else, but the spirit expressed only genuine curiosity.

Aster chuckled low in his throat. "Not really," he admitted sheepishly. "I just really like plants, so I took a detour." He looked up at the floating spirit. "I've actually been observing the humans around here."

"There are more humans beyond the ocean," the Man in the Moon offered helpfully. "Countless more, with different world views and different things surrounding them."

Aster smiled. "That sounds wonderful." He looked off into a direction, considering if it was worth it to travel all the way to the shore and then shift into something seaworthy, or if he should just skip back to the Warren for a shortcut. "I made this world for them, you know, I might as well see how they like it."

"Quite." The Man in the Moon was silent for a thoughtful moment, and then offered: "You could ride on my moonbeams." The rotund spirit smiled amicably. "I so rarely get a chance to do something like that."

It didn't take Aster long to consider his answer. "Sounds good," he said.

"Marvellous." The other spirit clapped his hands and a moment later the light of the moon seemed to condense into a path. It was still clearly light, but Aster could trust it not to let him fall through. It would make covering the distance faster, too, since the Man in the Moon's magic seemed to revolve around bending space to his whims. Most likely the moonlit path worked to a similar goal to the Pookan Tunnels, except the end of the time-space spectrum being influenced was different.

"Maybe, if you truly find yourself enjoying humanity and its company," the Man in the Moon started to speak at one point during the two crossing over the ocean, "you might consider helping me watch over them?"

"Maybe," was as much as Aster was willing to promise to. "Once I reinvent myself, that might be something that would interest me."

"You're so sure that your journey of self-discovery will bring you the results you seek?" the other spirit asked.

Aster shrugged. "When the goal is change for its own sake, it doesn't much matter _what_ result I get." He turned to give his companion a smirk. "And of course I'll succeed; I've already decided it. Even if it takes a while, I just have to keep trying."

"For a worthy goal?" the Man in the Moon prompted.

Aster's smile softened. "The worthiest of goals," he agreed, he looked over to the distant shoreline that was becoming less distant with each moment. "A better future. For me, and the people I bring it to."

"Oh, yes," the Man in the Moon mused, voice soft. "I like that goal too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's time for me to nerd about mythology once more.
> 
> [The "Dreamtime"](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dreamtime) of Australian Aboriginal mythology is the basic framework on which their mythology is based. Of course, as for most Australian Aboriginal things, it's been misnamed by Europeans, and the original Australian names for the construct refer to its timeless nature rather than any state of consciousness.
> 
> [The Rainbow Serpent](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rainbow_Serpent) is possibly the most widely-known-outside-of-Australia part of Australian Aboriginal mythology. The Rainbow Serpent is considered somewhat a creator god in many of the region-specific versions of the mythology, due to its connection to water, as the connection between water and life is very pronounced in Australian mythology.
> 
> I figured that, since it's canon that Bunny has a special love for the Australian continent, it would be fitting that he'd get his first experiences about human from there.
> 
> Also, I had to skip one update for 'You Will Find In in Me'. I discovered the wonders of RPG Maker and Pokémon Essentials and I've been making a demo to surprise my friends with. It's my first time using the program, so learning to use it has taken up a lot of my time. I've finally gotten enough of a hang on things to devote myself to other things, though.


	11. The Weight on My Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Look into my eyes you'll see  
> A graveyard filled with dirt and defeat  
> Look into my eyes you'll see  
> The weight on my soul  
> Where the fallen angels sleep  
> The crooked hearts and the crossroads meet  
> Where the haters say my name  
> And carve it in stone
> 
> I know how it feels when I haven't got a friend  
> Even when they're standin' beside me  
> I know how it feels when the world is gonna end  
> But they'll see  
> ~ Redlight King - Comeback  
> 

Aster studied the new world with an almost insatiable curiosity that would leave no phenomenon undiscovered. The humans and the animals were fascinating in their frailty, but nothing could compare to the wonder Aster experienced when he saw the flora of the planet.

Aster found plants, exactly like the ones he'd shaped inside his Warren. They all had names he recognized, names he knew from his own language. How could that be, when humans couldn't possibly know Pookan?

Thinking back on the ages he'd slumbered, the light in his chest giving life force to everything that came to be here on surface. It was possible that the Light had given the people more than just magic, that it had given them knowledge, some innate cues that assigned meaning to words and sounds and influenced the way they formed their language.

It couldn't be just a coincidence. Aster had learned that life was too simple for these sorts of things to be a coincidence. However, the Pooka had also learned that life was too convoluted and complex to ever be fully foreseeable, as well. Aster certainly couldn't have foreseen this kind of effect coming from his connection to life.

He was connected to every living thing on this planet that had come into existence after himself. Such an enormous connection would and should have bleedover, although it would be delicate, unnoticeable almost. Aster briefly wondered if the connection went both ways, if he himself had taken on something from the life forms that inhabited this planet.

Aster never could have imagined his life ending up this way, back on his peaceful homeworld. He couldn't even have imagined this during the helpless war that eventually led to the death of his entire species. There were so many points down the line that could have led to something entirely different happening in Aster's life.

Aster could have chosen to never leave his Warren. He could have chosen not to live. He could have chosen to give up when it became apparent that he was the only Pooka left alive. The journey across space to this planet had been long and perilous; Aster could have given up at any point.

Even further back in time Aster could have chosen to disobey his family. He could have followed his sister's lead and rebelled until his grandfather would have never considered him for candidacy of the Hope of the People. He could have repeated his mother's actions and run away from the duty his clan had wanted to force on him.

He'd told Dill to escape with Wattle. Aster could have protected his best friend himself. He could have protected them both and gone with them. Although, truthfully he probably would have preferred escaping with Jackfruit. He could have done that, gone with Jackfruit.

Of course, the truth of the matter was that, if Aster had done _any_ of these things, taken any alternative path, he would now be dead. That was what hindsight was telling him. At the time he had faced other options, however, he couldn't have possibly known what each decision would result in.

Every choice Aster had made had led him here, to this time and place. A more cynical him, the one who would have preferred to stay in his Warren and never leave its safety, would see his entire life as a specific course, as a fate that couldn't be avoided.

It was just as well that Aster had moved beyond that cynicism. He'd been trying to put that negativity behind himself since the moment he'd made the decision to see this world with his own two eyes. The current Aster, when he saw the plants with his people's names, could see that his life wasn't a coincidence, that all those other options he could have taken were never _real_ alternative paths for him. None of it was a coincidence.

Regardless, Aster's life wasn't held in the grasp of destiny either. No power, personal or universal, could have decided Aster's life for him. It was the opposite. Every decision that had brought Aster to this point was his alone. He never would have walked those other paths, because he wasn't the kind of person who'd choose to act differently than he had.

Aster wasn't like his sister; he wouldn't have fought against his duty even when he saw it as a set of shackles. Aster also wasn't like his mother; he wouldn't disregard the effort he'd put into fitting his role in favor of searching for a simpler life. He wasn't like Dill; who'd had the ability to focus herself on the individual instead of the group and had chosen to protect her fiancé when Aster had given her the chance to pick her own priorities.

Most tellingly, Aster would not have ever chosen to escape with Jackfruit. He'd wanted to, of course he had. He'd been worried about the other Pooka, despite knowing that Jackfruit could more than handle himself. But, even so, it just wasn't in Aster to pick the easy road. He'd had things to do, difficult tasks to accomplish and hard choices to make, and the truth of the matter was that he'd actually felt accomplished in denying himself that selfishness. The fact was, and had always been, that Aster's feelings were one-sided. Going with Jackfruit at that point, before they'd even had a chance to be properly friends, would have been meaningless. If Aster had jumped into an escape pod, he would have only done so for himself and he'd been able to do more for himself by staying.

Staying had been selfish of Aster, but it had been for the right reasons. He'd thought so then and he still thought so now. He'd wanted to give himself a chance to grow on his journey. He still wanted to let himself grow. Perhaps he'd never stop on that quest for self-improvement and he'd spend the rest of his life discovering a better version of himself again and again.

The very thought left Aster readier than ever to face the future. It was with this readiness and determination that Aster went back into his people-watching. This time he wasn't simply observing the human existence itself, but the things humans did. He watched artists of all forms create their craft, from painters and carvers to singers, composers and dancers. Humans were so creative in their art; it was only a matter of time before they found even more conduits for their imagination.

It was in his appreciation of human art that Aster discovered just how his connection with humanity affected _him_. He saw the humans hard at work at their chosen crafts, and he didn't see them as foreign beings completely removed from everything he knew. There was something familiar about humans, and with that familiarity came peace of mind.

One of the human art forms that really caught Aster's attention was confectionery. Humans had a real talent for making treats that smelled, looked and tasted wonderful. It was when he was doing his best to learn all he could about human sweets that Aster realized that he couldn't interact with the human on a personal level.

Perhaps it was part of him technically acting as the manifestation of life itself. Maybe it was some other quality brought on by his process of dead and rebirth. Perhaps it was caused by some inherent quality of humans. Might be it was something else entirely, something that Aster couldn't even begin to suspect.

Still, even with his inability to talk to or touch the humans, he could listen to them. He could observe them and the things they did. He could even take the occasional sampling of what they were preparing when he felt reasonably certain that a little bit wouldn’t be missed. Aster combined the knowledge he gleaned this way with what he knew of Pookan cooking and started making his own versions of the prepared dishes and treats.

After a great amount of time, work and attempted recipes, Aster found the one treat he greatly enjoyed creating. Aster’s new favorite treat was chocolate, a guilty pleasure that messed up his shape-shifting for several hours, but in small and controlled dozes it merely made his emotions more vibrant, giving some pause to the grey that still sometimes crept into his mindscape.

He was recovering from a trauma, Aster realized. Simply reinventing himself wouldn’t take away the feelings that had taken root in his soul, the apathy and despair. But, if he could numb them enough to enjoy this new world properly, he could discover something new to truly combat them. There was comfort in good food, or simply a tasty treat.

Aster practised his chocolate-making on the surface, as he didn’t want the smell of a failed experiment trapped in the closed space of the Warren. However, cooking on surface made it possible for him to gain an audience, and Aster did notice one particular spirit coming around quite often, almost like they were drawn to the scent of chocolate.

Aster knew his visitor was a spirit, because they held a somewhat different form every time Aster saw them. However, the body language was the same every time and Aster could recognize a recurring visitor when one came.

Once, Aster saw fit to speak to the strange spirit and ask them why they were so interested in what he was doing.

“It’s obviously the first time I’ve seen you,” the stranger said in a voice that changed and flowed in a way that Aster suspected wasn’t dissimilar to the way his form did.

“You change your shape every time, but I’m from a species of shape-shifters,” Aster spoke as a rebuttal. You learned to read nonverbal cues in that kind of an environment. “Even so, you’ve even worn that form before, soon after the last full moon.”

The stranger looked suitably impressed at being found out. “You notice a lot, it seems,” they commented. They shot a glance at Aster’s latest batch of chocolates. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth, it’s part of my Nature, so I was curious about another spirit with that trait.”

Aster had noticed that the spirits, as life forms, tended to have inescapable aspects to them that they couldn’t alter. Some of the spirits were man-eaters, even when they personally preferred a lack of violence. Some were compelled by gestures, items and words that meant nothing to Aster. Perhaps this spirit’s own compulsions were sweet-related.

It was something worth considering, Aster decided. If this spirit was compelled by treats, they’d shown remarkable restraint in merely observing Aster. They hadn’t ever stolen a single piece of chocolate, and certainly hadn’t acted hostile towards Aster for having something they desired.

With a nod, Aster smiled at the stranger. “Would you care a piece?” he offered, gesturing a hand towards a tray he’d propped up. “We could have a chat.” It certainly beat talking to humans who couldn’t hear him and so were unable to respond.

The stranger didn’t hesitate, probably having pegged Aster as a non-hostile long ago to get close enough to talk to this time. “Sure thing,” they spoke amicably. They walked over with confidence. “My name’s Calan Gaeaf.”

Aster watched Calan Gaeaf take a piece of chocolate, approving of the delighted expression that came across the other’s immensely expressive face. He was quite certain he could get along with anyone who shared his interests to this degree.

“A pleasure,” Aster spoke, truly meaning the words. “Mine’s Aster.”

Calan Gaeaf nodded. “That’s a good one,” he said. “A nature name.” He shot Aster a smirk. “My stands for the first day of winter.”

“It’s fine enough,” Aster said simply. He actually found it quite fitting. For all of his studying of this new planet, Calan Gaeaf was the first person he’d had a conversation with who was honestly an inhabitant of this world. Perhaps, in all factuality, this was the first day as Aster’s new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aster, don't start comfort eating, that's not good for you (I suspect involuntary shape-shifting counts as a side-effect). Well, maybe making a new friend will make him rethink that one.


	12. It Happens When You're Hurting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Everyday I feel the same  
> Stuck, and I can never change  
> Sucked into a black balloon  
> Spat into an empty room  
> But was it really worth it?  
> Did I really deserve it?  
> It happens when you're hurting  
> And cut me at the surface  
> Of my heart  
> Of my heart-heart-heart  
> ~ Marina and the Diamonds - Living Dead  
> 

There was no way Aster wouldn't notice the shimmers of gold glimmering in the corner of his eye. He'd been wandering the surface world for a while now, and he didn't really need sleep. He'd seen the Shooting Star wander around places where people slept, his sand granting the sweetest dreams made from sincere wishes.

Aster didn't particularly care for sleeping these days, however.

The Pooka's sharp ears picked out a new sound, like a cosmic wind changing its course. The Shooting Star had doubtlessly noticed him, grown curious and wandered closer to take a look.

"Don't even think about it," he grumbled in warning when the golden sand got a bit too close for comfort.

The sand swirled and gathered together until there was a golden humanoid figure floating in the air next to Aster. More sand gathered as the Shooting Star communicated its intentions with images.

Aster frowned. "I do sleep," he replied slowly. "But I'm trying not to do it for purposes other than resting." He'd seen what the world had become and had decided that it was worth witnessing. He couldn't do that if he slept just to pass the time, especially when his sleep had evolved to last several human lifetimes at a time.

Although he was wary of getting too close to the dream-inducing sand, Aster didn't think he'd mind if the Shooting Star stayed around a while longer. It had been a while since he'd last had someone for company, after all.

It was especially tempting to befriend the Shooting Star because Aster knew for a fact that he was the only remaining creature on this planet who hadn't been born after Aster and wasn't native to Earth that Aster hadn't yet encountered. Frankly, between the monstrosity of Pitch, the vagueness of the Tsar Lunar and the downright creepiness of the Mother, Aster could use a reminder other than Nightlight to show him the Golden Age had not actually been much less wonderful than he remembered.

Pitch alone was almost enough to convince Aster it would have been better if it had never existed.

"My name is Aster," the Pooka said cordially, and then watched as the other being showed a question in his images, a burst of light versus an image of a flower in boom.

_Is that the Pookan aster or the human aster?_

Aster's lips tugged into a smile. This being had been the first one to know enough Pookan to ask. "It's a bit of both," he conceded. He'd become too attached to this world to distance himself from it anymore. "What should I call you, dream smith?"

The Shooting Star shaped his sands again, giving Aster a name 'Sanderson' that was followed by some kind of a descriptor. Human's sleep? The Pooka frowned. No, it was a second name 'Mansnoozie'. Aster didn't know what a Shooting Star did with a family name when they didn't form families or shared lineage, but he supposed it could have been a sign of Sanderson settling down on Earth much like Aster was doing.

"Sanderson," Aster spoke out loud, giving the other a friendly smile. "Would you mind company on your rounds tonight?" It really was a nice night out for a shared walk.

The Shooting Star smiled brightly and nodded empathetically. Apparently he agreed with Aster's assessment.

It was a new experience, witnessing the humans the way Sanderson must have always done. He varied between keeping his distance and wandering closer, much like Aster himself did, taking advantage of his invisibility to most humans to get a closer look at something. However, Sanderson's attention lingered the most on humans who were asleep, and he'd scatter his sands around them to make their dreams all the more lively. Aster himself has only ever watched humans when they were awake.

They were even more like Pookas had been when they were asleep.

Aster noticed that some humans seemed to be aware of Sanderson's presence on some level, shifting restlessly in their sleep before his sands passed over them, lulling them deeper into worlds created by their minds. Aster had seen the wonders human minds could paint, it was an art form that any Pooka would have appreciated.

The sand itself was quite a marvel as well. Aster had seen some Shooting Stars in his life before, and had seen them use their golden trails to communicate and defend themselves, much like Sanderson could. This ability to spur out imagination and wishes, however, was something wholly unique to him, much like how Aster's connection to life made him different from any other Pooka even as he maintained many of his strictly Pookan abilities.

He wondered what kind of tragedy had hit Sanderson to change him so. He thought on the symbiotic space crafts that maintained the Shooting Stars' powers and helped them cross vast distances in space under their own power. Sanderson didn't seem to have such a craft, as the Shooting Stars could never leave the ships behind for long, lest their blink out, leaving the Shooting Star's own powers diminished from the loss of their symbiotic companion.

Sanderson wasn't weak, however, even in the absence of the space craft that he should have had. It was possible he'd come to Earth before losing it, and the new world had taken him for its own, as it had taken Aster, and had changed him into a new being onto himself, which also wasn't an unfamiliar feeling to Aster himself.

Naturally, Aster wouldn't pry into such things. The sand itself was a safe enough topic, however, and so he eventually asked his companion if he could touch it without nodding off.

The golden sand formed eyes with tiny stars falling into them. Aster blinked, surprised. "Really?" he asked. "That's how it works?"

The Shooting Star signalled a message that essentially translated to: "I don't make up the rules." Aster wasn't entirely sure what that meant but he did allow his hand to brush against the golden stream glimmering past.

The effect was instantaneous, as the formless sand morphed into Pookas and ellipsoid space ships. Perhaps some of his nostalgic feelings had seeped into the sand and morphed a dream of his.

Sanderson didn't mind the alteration, and sent the dream on its way. In the surrounding area, the children dreamed of Pookas and their shape ships. However, as humans, none of the children had ever seen a Pooka or a space ship, and their vast imaginations retranslated the images into terms they could understand.

That night, the children would dream of rabbits and eggs, and somehow they wouldn't wonder what rabbits even had to do with eggs. They would simply accept it as a connection that had a right to exist.

'The rules' weren't made up by anyone. They were a touch of personality with a large helping of circumstances topped off with a coincidence.

A broad expanse of uninhabited land spread out in front of the two spirits. It was time they parted ways, to allow Sanderson to fly to his next target while Aster returned to his own world-walking.

Aster was about to thank his companion for the company when Sanderson signalled a new message to him. The Pooka studied the forming signs in silence for a moment, before he smiled.

"Yes," he said gently. "I'd happy to do this again sometime. It has been a pleasure, Sanderson."

The Shooting Star insisted that there was no need to be so formal, that they were, after all, both some of the last remaining people of the Golden Age. Aster wasn't sure if he could be comfortable with using a nickname for the Shooting Star, but he did appreciate the sentiment he was trying to convey.

They should stick together.

Perhaps it was because he had been so successful in befriending both Calan Gaeaf and Sanderson that Aster got careless. Maybe he just got sloppy in general. Regardless of the reason, when Aster would later meet the weather spirit Imma, he would do so with his heart on his sleeve. He'd misinterpret her cold soul for simple withdrawal, her lack of empathy for having difficulty expressing herself.

Aster let the weather witch close, considered her one of his closest friends. She understood his connection to the surrounding world, and had her own approach to that connection.

She also wanted more from Aster than the Pooka felt he could ever give. The selfishness she expressed when that detail came out had cut Aster deep, left him reeling from the betrayal and he'd withdrawn from the world to shield himself.

It was startling, how easily Imma (who changed her name to 'Irma') could hurt Aster. The Pooka had allowed her closer than many others, had trusted her to be worthy of that admission. Instead, she had proven that she cared very little for Aster's friendship and simply wanted to possess Aster on an emotional level, like some kind of vampire that leeched off others' affection because she couldn't feel any herself.

Aster had hoped that retreating back into his Warren for a couple of years would help him forget the hurt, would help Irma forget him and leave him be. None of those plans bore fruit when the Guardians invaded his Warren, Sanderson along with them, to recruit him to battle some upstart calling herself the Snow Queen.

Aster wouldn't hear it. He had no intention of going back to the world in the state he was in, volatile and ready to explode with anger. But the young girl in the group, Katherine, had made him reconsider.

The girl was a good motivational speaker, pleading to the better parts of Aster. It wasn't the sweet words of faith and need that swayed Aster the most, however, it was the part she said about the Snow Queen draining all other winter spirits of their power, killing them.

He'd witnessed the beginning of the phenomenon, unable to ascertain its cause. Now that he knew it, he realized that there was no way he could turn his back on the world at this point in time.

The Pooka swore to himself that it would only be this once. He had no intention of becoming a Guardian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me so much trouble that I almost gave up on it. I wanted to do something with Sandy, but I also needed to set up the next chapter, so I'm sorry if this isn't up to my usualy standards. The next chapter's going to be one that I've been looking forward to getting to write for a while now. That means it should be pretty good~


	13. I'm Here to Save My Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  My name is revenge and I’m here to save my name
> 
> You’re fuckin’ wearing me out!  
> You’re always dragging me down!  
> You’re the fake, fallen, force of nature, sick mind  
> I don’t need a gun to take back what’s mine  
> (You’re fuckin’ wearing me out)  
> It’s over  
> (You’re always dragging me down)  
> It’s over
> 
> ~ Shinedown - My Name  
> 

"IRMA!" Aster roared as he burst through the twin doors, the locks breaking and the hinges getting dislocated from the otherworldly strength he used to push them aside.

Irma rose from her throne of ice, a long dress of thick velvet falling around her narrow frame. The ocean green fabric was decorated in silver stitching and it was far more grandiose than anything the spirit had worn before. She'd even gone as far as propping a crown on top of her head, the silver accentuating the natural whiteness of her short-cropped hair.

Her appearance confirmed to Aster what he had come here to find out in the first place. Even so, he still asked out loud: "Irma, what have you done?"

The other spirit didn't seem to be bothered by the fact that Aster's voice had lowered into a dangerous growl. Instead she smiled an empty smile and spoke with a facsimile of politeness: "Oh, Aster, how nice of you to come and visit. And all the way at the South Pole too."

"Irma," Aster hissed, feeling his mouth constrict around his words as he felt wrath he hadn't felt since he'd last battled Pitch, causing his teeth to change. They were growing too large to fill his mouth, his shape shifting was responding to an unprecedented desire to tear the person standing in front of him apart.

Finally there was an emotion in Irma's cold, blue eyes. They widened in wonder and curiosity as the winter spirit wandered closer. "Marvellous," she spoke quietly. "If I'd know _this_ would incite such passion in you, I'd have done it decades ago."

"Really, Irma?" Aster snarled and he found he couldn't clench his hands into fists anymore; the claws had grown too large for that. "This really couldn't all be just to catch my attention."

Irma laughed then. "Oh, no, that's not why I did this." She smirked. "But I have to admit I'm not disliking that turn of events." The winter spirit's face hardened. "I can't change the way I am, Aster. I cannot care about things and people like you do. I'm not built for that."

"Don't make it sound like you're the victim here," Aster hissed heatedly. "You're the one who started murdering other spirits to increase your own power. Nothing you say can make that something else. A lack of empathy for others doesn't excuse your lack or morality towards others."

"Not all of us can be kind and good like you, Aster," Irma retorted. "Haven't you heard the stories those humans tell each other? Their fairytales are always about good versus evil, of heroes defeating villains. _They_ made _me_!"

"So you, what, take their feelings away?" Aster threw his arms out, feeling his coat stretch over his subtly increasing bulk. He was losing control. He just couldn't take this betrayal of everything he believed in, from someone he'd considered a _friend_. "I heard that's what you're planning. You're going to make everyone's hearts as cold as yours."

"It's not for revenge," Irma insisted. "It's establishing a new order, a new 'normal'. If no one cares about one another, it's not so strange that I can't be bothered to."

"You're going to have to be bothered," Aster snarled. "Because there's no way I'd let you do this."

"Yes." Irma's expression smoothened into something indecipherable. "You wouldn't. Not with that heart of yours that's too big for even this entire planet to contain." Something hurtful flashed in the bright blue eyes. "It's not enough for you to care for every being on this planet, you have to spread your love to some long-lost world that's long gone."

If there was one part of Aster that was constant and never-changing, it was his still-subtle grief for his lost homeworld. It was something he'd never been ashamed of, something he used to draw strength from. No matter what pain lied in his past, his past was also what made him who he was.

"Maybe, if everything else ceased to exist to you, you'd finally think of me?" Irma murmured, laying a hand on her chin in a supposedly coy gesture. "Maybe then you'd be all mine and no one else's?"

Aster stormed across the distance between them, grasping a dainty wrist in his claws. "You're mistaken if you think I'd let you do _anything_ to _anyone_."

Irma smiled, like a cat that ate the canary, and whispered: "Maybe it's only you I'd do something to." Then she stood on tip-toe and kissed Aster's furry lips.

One kiss banishes the cold. The second kiss makes you forget everything that came before the Queen. The third kiss leaves you cold and dead.

It was the second time Irma had ever kissed Aster, and the kiss wiped his mind clean, burying the events that had formed him in a layer of magic. His mindscape became like a familiar path covered in thick snow for the first time: indecipherable and easy to get lost in.

"I think I'll keep you around," Irma's voice murmured through the thrall of the spell, Aster barely having the presence of mind to catch the words. "Compliant and without anyone else to care about."

\---

Bunny blinked his eyes open, breathing heavy and his chest churning hotly from the panic in the memory-dream. Even so, even as the fear and despair haunted the back of his mind, he felt more like himself than he had in days (weeks, it had been weeks, he should try to remember that).

Looking for the source of his awakening, Bunny caught a flash of white hair and for the moment it took for his mind to recognize Jack, his chest burned with renewed heat of fight-or-flight.

Jack seemed to notice his state of mind, or maybe he recalled that Bunny didn't much care for sleep, because the first words out of the winter spirit's mouth were: "What happened to _you_?" The winter spirit's face as upside down, as he was standing next to Bunny's head, peering down at the laid-down spring spirit.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, Bunny blurted out: "I'm taking a break."

Jack raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Now I _know_ something's wrong."

"Funny," Bunny groused. He knew he'd walked right into that one. The spring spirit sat up. "Why are you here, Jackie?"

"I'm investigating that blizzard," Jack replied, straightening himself. "Someone stole the remains of the Snow Queen's mirror."

Bunny's eyes widened. "How?" He hurriedly stood up to face Jack properly.

Jack crossed his arms, frowning with severe displeasure. "Apparently someone knows how to avoid wards." The winter spirit sighed in a worn-down manner. No wonder, Jack had only started studying magic a couple of years ago. "Nightlight said you know how."

"My way doesn't work for just anybody," Bunny admitted, lifting a hand to rub his chin as he considered. "I can step through space where the wards don't reach. It's a personalised version of Pookan Tunnel magic."

"Huh." Jack blinked in surprise. Then he smiled, a touch sheepishly. "Do you think I could learn it?" He tugged on his hair, a Pookan gesture in a human body. "I'm not strictly a Pooka anymore."

Bunny scoffed at the other's defeatist attitude. "I don't see why not," he said confidently. "Nightlight's never been a Pooka, but his Golden Age magical essence could perform the technique." Never mind that Jack certainly had Pookan shape-shifting left. "Most likely some of your old abilities have lasted."

Jack hummed as he considered Bunny's words. The he spoke out, a touch shyly. "You know, I used to be able to do magic on plants."

Bunny nodded. "You did mention your parents were farmers."

"You remembered." Jack grinned widely and Bunny's eyes lowered in embarrassment at the sincere joy in the expression. The winter spirit clasped his hands, probably to keep them from tugging on his hair any more. "Um, I mean that these days, when I use my magic on trees, it turns the leaves yellow."

"That makes sense," Bunny conceded. There was some kind of myth going on about Jack Frost painting leaves come fall.

"But maybe it's not that my old magic is gone or changed. Maybe it's just been overwhelmed," Jack suggested, gaining confidence as he went on. "Maybe I could call it back to the surface."

Bunny gestured to their surroundings. "The Warren is rich with the magic of the plants. You can give it a burl here."

"Really?" Again, Jack smiled brightly and Bunny quickly walked past the other spirit so he wouldn't see how flustered he was.

"I don't joke about things like these." He led the way to a vacant batch of grass and crouched down. "Come 'ere."

Jack did as he was instructed and sat on his heels next to Bunny. "So, any pointers? It's been a while for me."

"Plants are about vitality," Bunny immediately started to instruct, Jack for once acting as a captive audience. "You should think thoughts that relate to that. The sensation of waking up, of stretching after a long period of stillness."

"Of taking a leap off a rooftop and letting the wind catch me," Jack added in.

Even the thought of flying had Bunny shuddering, but he nodded nonetheless, because that was _Jack's_ way. "Exactly," he said. "Try it."

Jack laid a hand on the grass and Bunny watched as he concentrated. For several moments nothing happened. Bunny had been around and aware long enough to not mind a wait, but he could see Jack's features take on an expression of frustration. Bunny reacted by laying a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Don't rush it," he murmured. "Build up your magic and then release it."

There was a grunt from Jack, and then a long sigh as the shoulder in Bunny's grasp relaxed. Slowly, tiny sprouts started to raise from the ground. They didn't get very big before Jack gave up with a shuddering inhale. The resulting plants had only nubs instead of flowers, but Bunny could recognize what Jack had created.

"Sky Blue Asters," the spring spirit spoke in a tone of wonder. "My favourite."

A couple of heavy breaths sounded from Jack as the other spirit collected himself, but then the other spoke simply: "I know."

Jack had remembered that it was Bunny's favorite. Bunny's right eye twinged and he rubbed on it.

Jack turned over at the movement. "Are you _crying_?" the winter spirit hissed in a scandalized tone.

"No," Bunny huffed, perhaps a tad defensively. "My eye's acting up."

"Let me see." Suddenly Jack stood up and was in Bunny's space, bending over the other spirit's head to peer into his eyes. Jack's thumbs framed Bunny's smarting eye. "There's a slight discoloration," he commented before leaning back. His expression turned thoughtful. "Can the thief do damage like this with the shards they stole?"

"I doubt it," Bunny said with conviction. "The mirror was directly tied to the Snow Queen's life force, it shouldn't work for anyone else."

"So she _is_ back," Jack guessed. "In some shape or form."

"It seems more likely with the moment." Bunny pressed a hand to his chest. "It doesn't sound good."

"Why do you do that?" Jack reached out and laid a hand over Bunny's own, fingers slipping between Bunny's own to bury themselves in gray-blue fur. "What's wrong with your chest?"

Bunny hummed. "Didn't I ever tell you I was stabbed twice?" Bunny brought his other hand to his eye, showing the two locations of injury at once. "The Snow Queen grabbed two of the largest shards of the mirror and stabbed them through my chest and eye at once. I could feel her magic touch my very soul when it sank deep."

The expression on Jack's face turned emotional only for a moment before it became disgruntled. The winter spirit pulled his hand off Bunny's chest, making a face.

"Ugh", Jack uttered in a low tone. "Your fur's all moist."

"You're melting my ice heart, Jackie-boy," Bunny joked with a laugh.

Jack laughed too. "Don't say things like that out loud," the winter spirit scolded him. "I know you're joking but you sound so serious."

Bunny smirked. He remembered when he'd finally accepted his role as one of the Guardians, what he'd told his comrades, who'd showed him such courage, devotion and goodness. He'd told him they were his Hope.

Now he looked at Jack, and spoke: "You're my joy."

"I said stop that!" Jack was snickering as he pushed Bunny over, the two rolling around in the grass, their laughter echoing brightly.

Jack had said that he thought Bunny sounded like he was serious when he spoke sappy words. Maybe there was some truth to them. After all, how else was he supposed to explain the sensation of coming home he got around Jack?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who actually called the Snow Queen and Irma being the same person? Just wondering.


End file.
